


figuring things out

by screamignrodent



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Pregnancy, Royalty AU, Violence, its not even 2 am im a liar im sorry guys :(, this was like a 2 am "oh shit i want 2 finally publish this" n so i did
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-05-20 20:51:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamignrodent/pseuds/screamignrodent
Summary: Prince Daniel of Eithoia has been seeing Lord Philip in private for years, despite his marriage to Princess Isabella. Up until now, it was never an issue to the three to be together. No one anticipated for the Princess to have an urgent announcement, and now anticipated that it would impact Dan and Phil and their countries as much as it did. [updates every Sunday, hopefully]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> forgive me kids i dont know what im doing,  
> i havent had a proper nights sleep in so long.  
> love u

Fifth of January

Opal Palace, Opal City

Prince Daniel Howell of Etithoia stands at the gates of the Opal Palace, his hand on his sword, and an angry look in his eyes.

“Your Highness, Lord Philip is only seeing urgent visitors.” The guard states and the Prince shivers in the winter cold of Intora’s January. “And unfortunately, the Lord has not indicated that any urgent business with Etithoia would occur today.”

“Go in and tell your Lord that the Prince is here to speak to him.” He supplies, which he  _knows_ is unhelpful but it’s cold and he has a long ride back to Steeple Palace and he really,  _really_  doesn’t have the time for any sort of hold back to see Phil.

“Your Highness, the Lord has made it very clear that—”

“I believe what you meant to say was, ‘Prince Daniel, my pleasure. The Lord is always eager to meet you.’” He grunts, shivering. When the guard attempts to correct the Prince, Daniel cuts him off again. “Unless missing limbs is an idea the intrigues you, I do recommend that you fulfill the commands of your prince.” He’s bullshitting, of course, but the people of Intora don’t know that he’s never kept a threat through in his entire time ruling.

“Of course, Sire. However, the Lord has made it quite clear that—”

“Jefferson. Step down.” Lord Philip calls, and Dan doesn’t miss the fact that Phil has snow on his thick-framed glasses and that his black coat is blowing in the wind. He was walking in the gardens again—he does that a lot, no matter how many times Dan tells him that he’ll catch a cold.

“Phil,” Dan sighs happily, running to him and enveloping him in a hug, not caring that the guard was probably screaming about  _inappropriate behavior_ in his head.

Phil automatically hugged him back and placed a kiss on his hair, his hand coming up to grip his head as if to keep him from leaving. “Thought I heard your voice,” He whispered softly, before waving his hand towards Jefferson, “Jefferson, raise the gates. Prince Daniel and I have ordeals to discuss.”

Dan hears Jefferson mumble something that insinuates them fucking—and he notes how Phil barely even stiffens under the comment whereas Dan would have angrily demanded the guard repeat his words to the Prince’s face.

Phil seems to read his mind. “Why don’t you let the people see your soft side?” He says playfully, bumping his pelvis against Dan’s jokingly (and while Dan hates to say it, at this point,  _any_ contact with Phil gets him riled up). He grumbles a response, but Phil ignores it. “C’mon, you big softie. You saved baby animals constantly, you love kids, you’re sappy over everything—” Phil gets cut off by Dan pressing a chaste closed-mouth kiss to his lips, and when he pulls back, he sees Dan’s stupid grin. “You’re an idiot. People are scared of you, but have you ever actually harmed a person in your kingdom?”

The answer is no, obviously. He’s ordered executions but never fulfilled them—he’s always been a dramatic ruler, and therefore, he simply finds a way to prevent the execution from ever happening. The people are usually so caught up in other business to even care: most of them hardly feel any emotions, anyway.

But, Dan didn’t come here to have some much-needed alone time with his partner. “Phil, we need somewhere private.” He says, his voice dropping an octave and accidentally sounding more panicked than he had intended for it to.

If Dan’s voice was any other tone, Phil would’ve made a comment about Dan’s love for exhibitionism, perhaps commented on how he thought Dan might’ve preferred a more riskier area of the palace, but Phil knew better. When he said ‘private’ he didn’t mean that he wanted to catch up on their month apart—something had happened, probably something bad. “My chambers,” Phil suggests to, more like tells, Dan. “No cameras, no maids or butlers, no guards. Nothing can be tracked there.”

“That’s a bit unsafe for the future ruler to have no protection in his sleeping chambers.” Dan comments.

“I had to prevent the possibility of certain rumors being confirmed.” Phil states simply, and Dan laughs. “Besides, there’s nothing in there that a spy would want—most people tend to just ignore my existence.”

“They don’t  _need_ to be confirmed, everyone knows that they’re true.” Dan’s tone becomes cold again. “We need to stop stalling, come on. It’s urgent.” Dan grips Phil’s wrist and pulls him through the halls and up a staircase until they’re sat on Phil’s bed in his chambers.

“What’s happening?” Phil asks as soon as the door is closed.

“Away from the door,” Dan says, “someone could be listening.” He motions Phil to step away from the door and towards his bed.

Phil doesn’t argue; he doesn’t remind Dan that  _his_ people live by a code of privacy and kindness, he simply moves away from the door and to Dan’s side. Finally, Dan takes a deep breath, “The Princess is pregnant.” He states, and Phil nearly chokes on his own spit. “She’s eight weeks along. We wanted to wait until we told you, we found out a bit ago, but we… I couldn’t bring myself to break the news to you, and I definitely wouldn’t simply tell you this over the phone. I would have brought her with me but it’s a two-hour drive and she’s having a hard time and I read somewhere that stressful situations can induce a miscarriage and I—.”

“I-is it yours?” Phil cuts him off, hating that he knows the answer already. Of course, it’s Dan’s baby, why the hell wouldn’t it be? Dan and Isabella have been betrothed since they were young, and when they finally got married everyone knew that they were simply met to be. They had been best friends since they were young—Dan’s mother had been attempting allyship with Menia, so they had seen each other fairly often while growing up. Of course, Dan loved Phil and Isabella knew this, but he also loved Isabella and Phil knew this. He had no issues with it—the jealousy didn’t exist.

Until now, of course.

He would probably not be a part of the baby’s life at all, they probably wouldn’t ever see him, simply know that their father left too much to visit him.

Or maybe, he would no longer visit him. Maybe a baby would be too much work to balance a treasonous relationship.

The baby wasn’t his, obviously. He shouldn’t even want to be a part of its life, but he still did. It felt wrong to know that Dan would be raising a child he would never get to see, save from parties and royal affairs. He felt a pang of hurt in his chest, a sting that came with the knowledge of never being able to see them.

“Yes.” He says, and he won’t meet Phil’s eyes. “Phil, I’m so so—”

“No,” he chokes out. “Don’t give me pity. I should’ve been prepared for this, Dan. We can’t be… we can’t be together. How are you going to balance this,” he gestures between the two of them, “and a baby?”

Dan doesn’t look up still, but Phil can see the tears starting to build up behind his lash line. “Izzy and I want you to be a part of the baby’s life,” He practically sobs out. “We don’t—we don’t want you to be gone.” He takes Phil’s hands in his own and finally allows their eyes to meet. “There are ways to get around this. I want all of us to be happy, she doesn’t want to raise this baby without you there,  _I_ don’t want to raise this baby without you there.”

Phil thinks it would be inappropriate for him to say “thank fuck” but he does it anyway because really, he couldn’t be more thankful for them wanting him. “I don’t want to leave you, or the baby, I—” Dan kisses him once before he continues again. “I want to be a father to the baby. I want to be there when they wake up at night, I want to hold them, I want to be a part of their lives. I want to raise the baby with you and Izzy.”

“Our baby,” Dan corrects him, sweetly. “We’ll be a family. All three of us. We’ll figure out if it’s a girl or a boy and we’ll be  _happy._ ” Phil wipes a tear that’s fallen down Dan’s cheek and squeezes his other hand a little tighter in what he hopes is a reassuring manner.

“We’ll have to figure out the political side of this,” Phil says softly, breaking the happy moment. “My country… we’ve never been as open about the things that your country has been. To have me marry you and Izzy would be seen as a political passage—a joining of our countries. How will the people of Intora react to our countries becoming allied forces?”

“We… we want to join our kingdoms. We don’t have to say anything about,” he does that stupid gesture that indicates the two of them, “but, we would be able to have you move to Steeple Palace or we could move here or…” He looks at Phil to gauge a reaction.  

“I’m only an heir right now Dan, I can’t make such rash choices without a total council and then it would need to pass by the advisors until the King can even  _hear_ about it.” Phil shakes his head.

“You could live with us,” Dan says. “All three of us can get married in Etithoia,” he suggests. “You’re, what, second in line? Let Martyn and your father do the work, you can become a ruler of Etithoia. Our countries would be in peace, you would still have the political power you have now—more, in fact—and we’d be happy.” A perfect plan, except that he now needs to get the approval of a royal wedding from councilors or be seen as a traitor and get eloped.

Phil pulls him into a long, open-mouthed kiss before pulling back from him. “Let’s figure out how the hell to do this.” He states and realizes with raw certainty that he will do  _anything_ to be with the people he loves.

He gives Dan a kiss on his forehead and Dan says in a weak voice, “Okay, yeah, let’s um. Let’s figure this the fuck out, I guess.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter in particular-- descriptions of a panic attack, vomiting, and too many ellipses  
> sorry for the update i feel the need to have my writing validated all the time and therefore publish it earlier than i should

Sixth of January

Opal Palace, Opal City

It’s two a.m., and they’re laying in Phil’s bed, desperately trying to pass time. Dan can’t sleep well without Isabella, it’s been that way since they had an innocent sleepover at nine years old. It felt _nice_ to be near her—it felt right. For some reason—habit, probably—he’s found it difficult to fall asleep unless he’s _certain_ she’s nearby.

Dan regrets choosing the time with Phil rather than returning to his home. Sure, two hours is hell, but it’s not as if he’d be driving himself. Besides, he would’ve been able to call Phil on the phone, or at least have the peace of mind that he wasn’t keeping Phil up forcefully.

“C’mon, would you?” Phil asks, and Dan is momentarily snapped out of his wishful thinking to meet Phil’s soft and questioning gaze.

“Would I what now?” He asks, hoping that his smile is interpreted as dorky and not anxious. Because, don’t get him wrong, he is anxious, but he doesn’t want Phil to notice that.

Phil turns his socked-foot for that it bumps Dan’s and looks back up at his dark ceiling. “Would you ever sleep with the Prince of Menia? The pretty one, David, I think?”

“No!” He practically screams at Phil, earning a giggle. “God, Philip, I’m married to his _sister_. I would be freaked the fuck out the whole time, and not to mention I would probably tell Isabella and then get divorced.” He hopes Phil doesn’t notice his cheeks heating up in the darkness of the room.

Phil looks over at Dan as he begins speaking again, “Oh, fuck, you know what?”

“What?” Phil asks.

“We never told her family about the baby. We’ve been hinting at her being pregnant all along because we just _assumed_ that we had told them, but we didn’t. Holy shit, they’re probably so confused by all of the comments.” He groans and combs his fingers through the mess of waves on his head.

“What kind of comments? It can’t be that vague.” Phil says.

“Well, yesterday when she was on the phone with her mum, I made a comment about the ‘heir to the throne of darkness’ after she referred to me as the Moody King—”

Phil snorts, like he actually fucking snorts, “Moody King,” He repeats in an amused voice. “Fucking Mood King, God. I want to trademark that shit and put it on a poster on the border of our countries. Like a warning sign, you know? Just a big fucking sign that only says, ‘Moody King’ is huge bold letters. How ominous.” Phil’s nearly doubling over with laughter over the image that he’s picturing, and Dan has to admit that it’s pretty fucking funny, but he’s still worried about not having told Isabella’s family about the pregnancy.

Then, he’s thinking about how Isabella’s been so uncomfortable these past couple of days, and how she’s been suffering from headaches and stomachaches. She might be getting sick right now, and he’s not there right there. By the time he can even process what he’s doing, he’s got his phone out and is ringing Isabella. He’s breathing heavily, and he doesn’t know why. It’s as if he scared himself too much from the idea of Isabella being hurt.

Phil gives him a puzzled look and in the darkness,  Dan thinks he can see him mouth, “Izzy?” So, he nods and hopes he can actually read lips properly.

“ _Hello_?” Izzy answers.

“Izzy!” He exclaims. “I wanted to check in on you, I feel so bad for leaving you alone because you’ve been getting headaches recently and—”

“ _You called me at two a.m. because you were worried? That’s sweet, babe, but I’m pregnant now. I need my sleep._ ” She scolds him.

“You don’t _sound_ like you were sleeping.” He challenges.

“ _The baby was moving, it’s super uncomfortable. I’m so bloated, I feel like it’s too early for the pregnancy to feel like this._ ” She groans through the phone speakers.

“The doctor said the eight weeks was an estimate, you could be further along than that.” Dan remind her. “It wouldn’t be unlikely.” _God,_ Phil wished he didn’t just reference how much he had sex with his wife in front of his boyfriend. Really, an action that Phil _thought_ he might have gotten flew out the window with that statement.

“Put her on speaker.” Phil supplies.

“ _Is that Philly? Hi honey, the baby says hi, too._ ”

“I say ‘hi’ to the baby, Izzy.” He says. “How are you? It’s not too bad, right?”

“ _Oh, it’s horrible. But it’s only going to get worse. Think the baby is keeping me up because she misses her Daddy, but he’s visiting Papa right now._ ”

Phil’s mind is so hung up on her referring to him as the baby’s _Papa_ that he misses her gendering the baby. Dan doesn’t, though. “ _She_?” He asks.

“ _Baby’s a girl_.” She provides, unhelpfully. “ _I just know. She’s my little girl and I think I’m going to name her Anna._ ”

“Anna is beautiful, Izzy,” Phil says.

“What are your name ideas, Phil?” Dan asks, and Phil feels a little put-on-the-spot.

“Oh, uhm,” He stammers. “I’m not sure. The name Kristin is pretty, but I’ve also always liked the name 'Laura'.”

“ _Oh, Philip, imagine naming her Laurie!_ ” Izzy exclaims over the phone, and Phil doesn’t want to tell her that she should look at boy names, too, because she just sounds too happy over the phone. He was not going to be the person to ruin her joy. There’s a beat of silence, and then, “ _Little Laurie is moving around in there_.”

Phil laughs. “She’s excited because she can hear her dads talking; she can’t wait to see us.” He sees Dan’s smile widen out of the corner of his eye, and feels his own smile grow, if it’s even possible.

“Is that true, Laurie?” Dan asks into the phone. “You just can’t wait to see us. In a couple of months, you’ll be a little human.”

“ _A little human?_ ” Izzy laughs sleepily. “ _It’s like you forgot the word for baby_.” Dan yawns, the first signs of sleepiness he has shown all night.

“Yes, I did. I’m tired,” He giggles. He actually _giggles_ into the phone.

“You’re so tired you giggled like a schoolgirl, love.” Phil supplies. “I think it might be time to say goodbye.” Dan pouts, but doesn’t argue with Phil.

“Laurie, Izzy, bye-bye,” Dan says sweetly. “Danny loves you both.”

“Goodnight Izzy, goodnight little one,” Phil says softly. “Love you, both.”

“ _We love you both, too_ ,” Izzy says, and then she hangs up.

When the morning comes, neither Dan or Phil remember going to sleep, but they wake up tucked in each other’s arms. Dan yawns and disappears into the bathroom while Phil leans back into his mattress and tries his best not to fall asleep again.

He fails, and when he wakes up again, Dan is gone and there’s a notification on his phone. He opens the text from Dan and smiles a little.

From: Dan

_So sorry that I had to leave while you were sleeping but you looked so peaceful I couldn’t wake you up, xx <3_

He wants to cry a bit, something about the conversation they had last night left him broken. He needed to be held for a bit longer, but he knows better than to force Dan to stay. His title may be “Prince” but everyone is well aware that the Prince of Etithoia holds all political power. There is no king—there never was, not in the whole history of Etithoia. Phil knows better than to keep a ruler from his people.

To: Dan

_It’s ok._

He isn’t sure whether or not the period makes it sound too sarcastic, but he can’t bring himself to care. In about nine minutes, he’ll probably get a call from Julia demanding that he come down to the kitchens and he wants to be properly dressed before she forces him to spill the beans as to why Dan was in his chambers last night.

He lets out a shaky breath when he remembers why Dan _was_ in his room last night. He feels a little dizzy and decides to sit back down. _Fuck_ , he was a _father_. He was going to raise a “tiny human” as Dan had put it. He was, hopefully, if all went well, going to get married to two of his favorite people. He felt his throat close up, but he fought through it as he attempted to change into his pants.

Maybe the baby would hate him. What if they hated him because he wasn’t their real dad? What if they preferred Dan? Was he even ready for a kid? Of course, he wasn’t ready for a kid, for Christ’s sake, he was only thirty, about to be thirty-one.

But Dan was only twenty-six, and Dan had seemed happy over the baby. He had seemed genuinely excited. Perhaps it was simply because he knew that he could be assassinated at any moment and now he would have a blood-heir to secure his legacy in the throne if that happened. Phil began to breathe heavily, _was this all just because he wanted an heir to his throne?_ Phil wondered. It didn’t seem far off—Etithoia wasn’t exactly known for anything other than their cutthroat ways of living.

But Dan had been in love with Isabella since they were little, Phil vaguely remembers trying to get the young monarch away from his girlfriend when they were teenagers and went to balls and events together. It never really did work; instead, Dan would always suggest they bring Isabella with them. Phil remembers Dan once-upon-a-time drunkenly spilling that he wanted to have a family with Isabella.

Why would he want to share that ideal dream with Phil?

He’s so caught up in his head screaming and the tears beginning to fall down his face that he doesn’t notice Julia waltz in with a tray in her. She gives him a _tsk_ and the clack of her heels against the hardwood flooring snaps him back to reality.

She pushes his hair back with her free hand and cups his chin. “Oh, honey, what’s going on?” She asks softly. “Did that dumb son-of-a-bitch hurt you? Those Etithoians are all the same.”

He manages to shake his head and mumble out a slurred, “Princess. Pregnant. Baby. Dan’s.” Before he hiccups and goes back to sobbing. Julia puts the tray down on his bed and sits next to him, patting his shoulder. He takes a shaky breath before he gurgles out, “Want me to help.” He hiccups. “Raising the baby. Want us to get married.”

“Married?” She says. “Philly, that’s great. What about this situation is bad?” Her words are honeyed, as if to ease whatever he’s going through.

“Won’t be,” he stammers, “a good dad. Baby will hate me.” He squeezes his eyes shut so that he doesn’t have to see Julia’s stare of pity. He knows it’s there, though. He doesn’t need to see it to know that she’s giving him a sad gaze with her slight frown.

“Dear,” she starts softly, “you’re going to be the best father ever.” She assures him. “Have you talked to your father about this? This plan…” She trails off as his breathing quickens again.

“No.” He refuses. “Don’t want to. He won’t allow it.”

“Baby, you can leave at any moment but…” She pats his shoulder again. “If you don’t tell him soon, you’ll have to step out of the baby’s life. It’s unfair for _them_ to have to hide the fact that you’re a part of their lives now.”

He hopes he doesn’t look as bad as he feels when he nods. “I’ll tell him at the ball.”

“The one on Thursday?” She clarifies, knowing the answer is yes. There’s only one ball coming up, and it’s on Thursday. Phil simply nods in response, and she stands up from his bed. “Well, then. You’ll gladly help me make some desserts for the said ball by trying them all. Now, come on, I’ve decided that the menu will _definitely_ hold a chocolate theme.”

 

Isabella wanted to die, but only moderately. Between the pounding in her head and the baby moving around in her belly, she wanted to bash her head against a wall. There was a little voice that said, “that wouldn’t be good for the baby,” and she despised the fact that the voice sounded strangely alike to Dan’s.

“Daniel James Howell!” she groaned from the bathroom, hoping to God that he would hear her. He tended to have earbuds in whenever he had a second to himself—claimed it was because if he didn’t have music playing he could hear Austin yelling about “public appearances” to him. “Daniel!” She shouted louder, and automatically heard his footsteps coming towards their bathroom.

“Izzy, what’s wr—” He stopped himself midsentence and knelt down to pull her dark brown hair back. “Hey, calm down, is it morning sickness? I thought that had mostly passed.”

“I—” She retched into the toilet. “Have a headache.” She placed her head against the rim of the toilet. Any other time, Daniel would’ve scolded her for being unsanitary, but he wisely shut his mouth and continued rubbing her back.

“That bad?” He asks, and she manages a nod. “Love, that’s a migraine. I’ll turn the lights off.” He stood up from where they had been kneeling and retrieved a hair-tie and hit the light switch. Dan pulled her hair into a messy bun and kept it in place with the hair-tie. With the hand he wasn’t using to rub her back, he pulled out his phone and began calling Phil. “Here, I’ll call Phil, he gets migraines.” He explains quickly, and Izzy chokes out a sob. Unfortunately, the calling line goes silent with a _leave a message at the tone of the beep_ , and Dan hangs up the phone.

“Everything is going _wrong._ ” She moans. “My shirt wouldn’t button, I’m so fucking bloated. Is it normal to show this early on? I think I’m just getting fat, honestly.” Dan’s a little shocked by that statement.

“Love, it’s perfectly normal. Remember, Doctor Yuu said that you might be further along than he thought. It might also be multiples. I read somewhere that sometimes a twin hides behind another at the first ultrasound and then the mother starts showing early on.”

She retched again into the toilet bowl, “Fuck you. If we have more than one kid, I’ll cut your dick off.” Dan wants to mention that, actually, if they’re fraternal it’s _her_ fault, but he bites his tongue. He has a feeling that she would murder him on the spot. “This pregnancy has to be the _worst_ pregnancy in human history.” He, again, holds back from mentioning that she has modern medicine, a working husband, _and_ the money to pay for all of the modern medicine she needs to get through the pregnancy.

“Hey, it’ll all be worth it in the end, right?” He says, hopefully.

She groans instead of answering. “There's,” she retches, “a royal ball at Opal on Thursday.” She takes a breath. “We—we need to bring medicine for the car ride. I’ll die.”

“You can stay here,” Dan reminds her. “I could stay here, technically we don’t have to go.”

“You,” she hiccups, “Want to miss an opportunity to see Philly?”

“Of course not, I just want you to be okay,” He says quickly.

“I’ll be okay. Just bring stomach medicine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope this isnt The Worst Thing Ever because i really like where this is going and would feel bad if everyone hates it uhm bye


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk it's super long also i low key didnt like this as i wrote it So Um we're not gonna talk abt it.   
> sorry abt the speedy update again i really actually like this fic,,, and so ,,,m uhh  
> Warnings for this chapter: pregnancy (could u have fuCKIN GUESSES BRO), izzy is sick rip, mentioned/implied smut, making out (not really tho?????), phil lester just being generally too pretty to handle,,,

Eleventh of January   
Junestown, Intora 

“Look,” Isabella points out of the window at a large cathedral-shaped building. “Have you ever seen something so beautiful?”   
He looks at her with a look of adoration, “The woman I married is a billion times more beautiful.” There’s a beat of her blushing, and then she smacks his arm with a resonating ‘slap!’ and Dan has to pretend that it didn’t hurt as much as it really did.  
“Dumb motherfucker. I hate you,” She says, and her tone’s spiteful but Dan knows that she means otherwise. He’s learned that her saying “I hate you” really means that she loves him (usually).   
“I love you too,” Dan leans his head down to rest on her shoulder as more buildings pass by through the window. “It is beautiful, though. Junestown is breathtaking. If we didn’t have to live in Kings I would’ve moved here decades ago.”  
“What a scandal!” Izzy feigns shock, “The Moody King prefers the capital of Intora over his own city.” She gives him a look before turning her attention towards the window again. “I think the medicine is wearing off, when can I take another one?”  
Dan checks his phone’s clock. “In about an hour. You should be able to take another pill before the ball starts, if all goes according to plan.” Should there be traffic, of course there will be, or any other delay, they’ll need to adjust the medicine schedule a bit. Dan isn’t sure whether Isabella would rather suffer in the car or at the end of the ball. Doctor Yuu had warned against overusing medications incase Izzy suffered from an ulcer. Dan assumes that an ulcer while pregnant would probably certify it as a bad pregnancy, so he’s done all in his power to keep his wife away from downing too many pain-killers.   
Isabella puts her forehead against the window and takes a breath. “You don’t seem too upbeat.”   
He nudges his head into the crook of her neck and she threads her fingers through his hair in a steadying motion, “Yea, just sort of anxious.” He mumbles softly against her shoulder. “Wish we could go home, don’t really want to talk to so many people.” She nods in understanding even though he has his head down.   
“I know. We’re going to eventually have to break the news,” She tells him. “You know, we could tell everyone here.” She points out.   
“It’s your choice, love.” He reminds her. “I’m not the pregnant one.”  
“Your mood says otherwise.” She pokes his nose playfully, causing him to recoil and bump his head against the back of the seat. Isabella laughs and puts a hand behind his head, “Oh, dear, are you okay? I heard a ‘thump’ from that, it couldn’t’ve felt good.” She pushes his hair around before deeming him healthy again, “Well, you look relatively put together. As much as you normally do, at least.”  
“Thank you, Doctor Howell,” He pecks her cheek.   
“Oh? Is this some sort of roleplay you’re into?” She jokes, “Your wife being your doctor?” She lowers her voice by an octave in an attempt to be sexy, but it just causes Dan to laugh and lean his head into the space between their seats and the driver’s seat.   
“What are you going to do?” He says through laughter, “Oh, Doctor Howell?”   
She moves her fingers in a “come closer” motion and he obliges. “Need a prostate exam?” She whispers giggling.   
“Oh my God,” He catches his breath, “I want a divorce.”   
“But then you’ll have to pay child support!” She tells him, and he waves his hand.   
“So? I’m the Prince, I’ll just make child support illegal.” He points out, and she rolls her eyes at him.   
“You’re going to get impeached.”  
“Good, then I’ll be able to spend more time with my wife and boyfriend.”   
“No, because I’ll have divorced you by then, so you’ll only spend time with Phil.” She points out. She takes a breath again, this time shakier than before.  
“You okay?” He asks, moving his head from her shoulder.   
“Erm, yea, just a little uncomfortable. Not in too much pain.”   
“Okay, love.” He says, but he knows that they have a long car ride to go.

Phil has anxiety.   
Not diagnosed, no, and he’s well aware that this is just basic run-of-the-mill anxiety, but he still feels like crawling into a ball and never coming out. He hates any sort of public appearance he has to make. It involves too much dressing up, too much pretending to care. At least he has the excuse of needing to talk to the King to dip out of the “fun” time, and there’s also the plus of his two most favorite people (three? Does the baby count?) being there.   
He’s been forced to wear a navy blue three-piece suit (“Isn’t this a bit too fancy? I mean, it’s about Martyn and Cornelia, not me.” He’d attempted to argue, but Julia had just shushed him and reminded him the Lord needs to be the second-best dressed.) “Julia?” He asks, and she emerges from his bathroom with cufflinks and a tie. “Can you roll up my sleeves?” He asks sheepishly, earning a laugh from her.  
“Oh my fucking God,” she laughs. “You’re so incompetent, how did you get born into a job that requires competency?” But she obliges, despite her bullying, and rolls Phil’s sleeves up. She places the cufflinks in and pats his shaking hands. “Hey, it’s like you said, this is about the future king, not you. You’re still allowed to fall into the background, okay?” She assures him. “If you need help or if you start panicking, just come to me; I’ll be at the desserts table or I’ll be floating around offering drinks.”   
He pulls her into a weak hug and lets a tear fall down his face. “I don’t want to do this. You know how much I hate this,” He tells her.   
“I know, honey, but Daniel and Isabella will be there. You can talk to your father with them, you know? They might even announce the pregnancy here.”  
He lets out a half-hearted laugh and begins to tie his tie around his neck. “They’ve never been the type of people to have announcements. They’ll probably just slip the baby into conversation casually.” He explains. “Dan thinks that announcements are only for the people that you love.”  
“I’ll never get used to you calling them Dan and Izzy.” She laughs, but her eyes look a little sad. “If you move to Steeple with them, promise me you won’t forget about me?” She asks him.  
“Of course not, I’m taking you with me.” He says with certainty.   
“They wouldn’t let you.”  
“You underestimate how much I have that boy wrapped around my finger.” He points out and straightens his tie.   
“Okay, boy, now go out there and ‘woo’ your partners.” He pulls her into a hug. “And if anything happens,” she winks exaggeratedly, “you’ll tell me about it, right?”  
He blushes, but nods. 

Izzy, for the first time since she got the two lines on the stick, wants to drink. She didn’t anticipate how it would feel to be sober around politicians of bigger countries. “If I get approached by one more member of the Intora advisory asking if I want to talk about ‘recent events’ I’ll fling my body into the chandelier and then the sun.” She threatens into Dan’s ear, and he nods.   
“Fucking go for it.” He’s holding a glass of water, he doesn’t want to drink if Izzy can’t drink, “I want to murder the Arch Duke Kieran. He asked if I would like to ‘confirm the rumors’. Like, damn, bitch, which rumors? There’s too many involving me.”   
He leans over and pecks her lips, earning her to groan. “I just put on my lipstick,” She said, and Dan pouts. “You have lipstick on you.”  
“Oh? Do I look good?” He winks at her, and she raises her middle finger to him under the table. “God, most of these couples are too fake.” He points out. “How many of them were arranged marriages?”   
“We were arranged,” She points out, and he waves his hand.   
“Yea but we were arranged because our mums saw us and were like, ‘ooh they want to get down’ and then decided to set us up.” He fires back. “We weren’t really engaged until I proposed, so it’s not like it was completely forced on us. It was more like a ‘suggested marriage’ and not an arranged marriage.”   
“You’re not wrong.” She agrees.  
At the moment, how fucking convenient, a maid comes up and offers them both champagne. Isabella is sure that they terrified her by their in-sync groans of frustration and then equally in-sync exclamations of, “God, no.”   
“We really live up to the Etithoian stereotype.” Izzy points out.  
“One, no we don’t, neither of us have killed anyone, and two, you’re Menian, not Etithoian.” He says the last part with sass as if to say that he’s the more official Etithoian.   
“Well, I just meant because we show our love through being assholes.” She pointed out. “We also cuss way too much for any other royal party.”   
“Are you sure? Because I’ve heard Phil speak and the boy has a mouth.” Dan points out. “Speak of the devil,” He gestures to wear Phil is making his way towards them. Every other royal party has decided to dress to the Heavens. But Phil is something else, he’s dressed for Jesus Himself and suddenly Dan feels as if his black slacks are a little too tight for him.  
Phil is beautiful, that’s the only way to describe it. His (dyed) black hair is pushed back into a neatly-styled quiff and his thick-rimmed glasses sit on the bridge of his nose and framing his bright blue eyes. Dan distinctly recognizes that Phil has applied minimal makeup and he wants to compliment every inch of him. His navy-blue suit is ironed to a crisp and dear God, would it be wrong for Dan to drag Phil to bed right this instant?  
Isabella speaks what they’re both thinking, “Holy fuck, how did we ever get this lucky?” And Dan just shakes his head in disbelief. Them getting together was completely accidental but fuck if that wasn’t the best accident they’d ever made, because now Dan has two of the prettiest people ever by his side.   
“Hi,” Phil says sheepishly.  
“You look,” Dan takes a breath, “fucking amazing.”   
“Beautiful,” Isabella supplies. “Angelic, even.”  
Phil blushes and looks down at his shoes, “Thanks, I didn’t want to wear all of this but Julia forced me to.”  
“Julia?” Dan asks and tilts his head to the side.  
“Oh! Julia, she’s my new personal maid. She’s super nice, but she told me I’d look great like this so I just sort of went with it.”   
“Well, we’re glad you did.” Isabella says happily, and she puts her hand on her stomach, rubbing circles onto her baby bump. “Laurie’s moving.” She tells them. “You can sort of feel it if you put your hand,” she takes Phil’s hand and puts it over her bellybutton, “right here.”   
Phil makes a face of surprise and then breaks into a smile, “Oh my God,” he says happily. “You can feel her moving around. It’s so weird but so cool. Dan, come here.” Dan humors Phil and places his hand where Phil’s was before and feels a little bump under his hand.   
“What was that? Is the baby kicking or is it just moving?” He asks, confused. Isabella shrugs.   
“I don’t know, this is the first time I’ve been able to feel it from outside of my stomach. Most of the time where she moves it’s just like a sinking feeling.” She explains, and a butler comes up to offer them all drinks, and they all decline, albeit, politer this time.   
Phil takes a sip of Dan’s water, earning a shove from Dan. “I can’t imagine what that’s like.” He sympathizes. “But in, what, seven months we’ll have a little one.”   
“We have to get married soon,” Dan says. “Unless you want to live at our palace while were engaged? I’m just thinking about making sure wedding dresses fit,” he shoots a look at Isabella’s belly, “and making sure the baby will get to see their papa. I read somewhere—”  
“Jesus Christ, you read everything somewhere.” Izzy mutters, and Dan ignores her.  
“—That the baby recognizes the voices it heard while in the womb. They’ll know who you are from your voice, but in order to keep that recognition they have to be exposed to your voice often.”   
“I think we need to get engaged before we can really plan our wedding,” Phil supplies, and he goes through his phone while they begin to chat about useless and meaningless things. They talk about their day, how much they’ve all misses each other, and names for the baby (although Isabella is dead set on Laurie). Another royal, Dan distinctly recognizes him as an Arch Duke of something, interrupts their conversation.   
“Princess Isabella, I heard that you’re not drinking alcohol.” He states slyly, and Dan resists the urge to deck him. The way he states it is so slimy as if the confirmation that she’s pregnant is something bad.   
“Oh, yea. Doctor Yuu said that I could drink some without harming the baby this early on, but I don’t want to risk it.” She says simply and continues to type something into her phone.  
“Baby?” He asks, still as slimy as ever.  
“Yea, baby. Didn’t you know that we’re expecting?” She says simply.   
“Aren’t you a little young to be having kids? I mean,” Dan can tell he’s about to say something shitty, “Lord Philip is nearly thirty-one and isn’t even in a relationship.”  
“Actually,” Phil says, which startles Dan a bit. “I am, in fact, in a relationship. With two of the best people I know.”   
“Two?” The ruler asks in such an annoying voice that Dan wants to rip his own ears off. “Who are these people? Is it going to end in an engagement?”  
“You’re speaking to both of them,” Dan supplies simply, and the Slimy Son-of-a-Bitch looks uncomfortable and recoils slightly at Dan’s harsh tone.  
“Oh. An Etithoian. I always expected better from the Intoran Lord.” He says with exaggerated disgust.   
Dan ignores the statement and looks over Isabella’s shoulder to see what she’s typing into her phone.   
In the notes app, she’s written, “I’m gonna break that son of a bitch’s fuckin face,” and Dan stifles a laugh. “What’s so funny, Prince Daniel?” The ruler asks with fake sincerity.   
“My wife is hilarious, is all.” He supplies, and kisses her cheek lovingly. She gives him a look, but plays along with the affection. They’ve never been huge on PDA, if they show affection they do it for each other and not to show off, but Dan really hates this man, so she plays along with it. “Philly, come look at what Izzy’s written.” Phil leans his head over Dan’s shoulder and Isabella quickly writes in her notes app, “just play along with the PDA babe.”  
“That’s hilarious Izzy,” He gives her a peck on the cheek, too. It feels a bit uncomfortable, and he’s sure someone got a picture and will post that in a tabloid tomorrow morning, but he hates the man who just waltzed over so he’ll out himself to spite him. It’s not like it’ll be a shock to anyone, anyways.   
They’re interrupted by the King making a toast to the crown prince and his fiancé. He tells the story about how they met, thought it’s common knowledge between the three royals.   
Martyn had been a regular at a coffee shop that Cornelia worked at and eventually, he asked her out after she had accused him of only visiting on Tuesdays so that he could see her. Of course, the rest is history: they fell in love and eventually, Cornelia (what a twist) proposed to Martyn, and Martyn had said yes.   
Phil isn’t sure whether or not he imagines the sideways glance that his father gives him, but then he remembers that he’s still practically cuddling with Dan and Izzy, and quickly moves away as if he’s been burnt. Dan gives him a puzzled look but doesn’t question it too much.   
The rest of the night goes by without too much of a hitch; they wish Martyn and Cornelia a good engagement and marriage and they both thank them back and take seats at the table. “So,” Martyn begins. “These are the people my baby brother is absolutely enamored with.” Phil nearly chokes on Dan’s water at that statement, but he finishes the glass instead.  
“Oh, Daniel, I finished your water, I’ll go get you more.” And before anyone can argue, he’s up and gone from the table.   
Dan wants to die, he’s mortified. The only times he’s met Martyn were when he was little and Martyn was forced to babysit him and Phil. God, he hopes Martyn doesn’t remember what embarrassing children they all were. “He really likes you,” Martyn states, “both of you.”  
They manage a nervous nod, and Dan grasps Izzy’s hand in his own under the table. “I know about the baby,” Martyn says simply. “News spreads fast no matter now secretive on can try to be. Phil is scared about being a father, and you might not see it, but he’s anxious that this child won’t like him.”  
“Laurie will like him,” Izzy states simply.   
“He doesn’t know that.” Martyn says. “What I’m telling you is to be gentle on him, okay? He wants whatever you guys have to stay good, and I don’t want you to be angry with him over something he can’t help. I’ve seen you all grow up and I know how close you’ve all grown, okay? Don’t break that.” Then he leans back in his chair, and the mood lightens as Phil sits down again. “So, what’s the name list for the future heir?”   
“Laurie,” Isabella says.   
“And Anna, David, James, and Jordan,” Dan says quickly. “Isabella is just caught up on the name Laura, and she certain that the baby is a girl.”  
“The baby is a girl.” Isabella shoots back.   
“I never said it wasn’t, dear,” Dan points out.  
Cornelia laughs. “You’re both so young for kids, though. Are you ready?”   
“We’ve been married for seven years,” Dan points out. “I think we’re pretty ready for kids.”   
“We’re going on eight years in March,” Isabella says, and Dan looks at her lovingly.   
“That’s so long, you both were married young,” Cornelia says. “Was it a betrothal?”  
“Well, er,” Dan makes a face, “Sort of? Not really, no.”   
Cornelia doesn’t look like she’s buying it. “So you just decided to get married at eighteen?”  
“Well, I was nineteen.” Isabella provides unhelpfully.   
“We’d been best friends since we were little, and our mums knew how much we loved each other so they sort of, um, suggested it. It wasn’t a forced marriage, it was a suggested marriage.” He explains. “I’m glad they talked us into it, though, she’s my best friend, besides Phil.”   
“I like that I’m an afterthought,” Phil says, and Dan sticks his tongue out in retaliation.   
“Listen, old man, can’t I admire Isabella for a second without you getting all jealous? You know I love you, too.” Dan snarks back.   
“How did all three of you meet?” Cornelia asks, and all of these questions are starting to make Dan really crave a drink.   
Phil answers this one, “We had grown up together.” He says simply.   
“No, but like, all three of you. You obviously have a strong bond but how did you figure out all three of you liked each other?” She asks.  
“Honest answer or sugar coated?” Dan asks, and he takes a drink of the water cup Phil has brought them.   
“Honest.” She says. “Martyn, you’re not allowed to ever use this information against Philip. I forbid it.” She tells him, and he rolls his eyes.   
“We um, er, threesomes,” Dan said, but it came out like a question.   
Cornelia laughs, “Oh my God, threesome? You just all had sex one day and figured out you liked each other? That’s hilarious, I thought that the Etithoian stereotype was fake but apparently it’s not.”  
“No, it’s real,” Dan assures her.  
The five spend the rest of the night talking, and eventually, Martyn and Cornelia move on to other tables and they continue to chat and hang onto each other’s every word. 

It isn’t until people begin to drunkenly be escorted out of the party that the King of Intora approaches them with a smile and kind eyes. “Hello, Prince Daniel,” He greets and Dan stands up to bow. “Princess Isabella,” she also stands to the King and curtsies, “Son,” Phil waves.   
“Hi, dad.”   
The King pulls up a chair and sits across from them. “Did you have a good time at the party?” They all nod. “I think they’re a lovely couple, truly.”   
“Of course, Sir. They’re truly meant to be.” Dan says.  
“Oh, please, Daniel,” The King says and Dan stiffens. “We’re equals, aren’t we? Different titles, yes, but you and I are both rulers.” Dan relaxes.   
“I’m sorry…”  
“Nigel,” He supplies.  
“I’m sorry, Nigel.” Dan apologizes.  
“So,” the King… Nigel, says, “What’s with this baby I hear about?”  
Isabella takes the answer. “Daniel and I are expecting a baby.” She says sweetly.   
“Congratulations! When’s your due-date?” Nigel asks.   
“Sometime in July,” She says, “We’re hoping it’s a girl.”  
“You’re hoping it’s a girl,” Dan corrects. “I’m happy with whatever our baby is.”  
“And is the wedding happening before or after the baby is born?” Nigel asks.  
“I’m sorry, what?” Daniel asks.   
“Oh, did I misread the situation? I was certain that the three of you were planning a wedding.” Nigel sounds disappointed, and Phil speaks up.  
“You didn’t misread the situation, Dan’s just stupid,” Phil assures his father, and his father smiles at him.   
“Oh, son, you have no idea how happy I am for you.” Nigel says, and he tears up a bit. “I’m sure your mother is proud of you, too. Kath always wanted you to find love; she always thought that it would take a while, but it would happen.”   
“Mum…” Phil feels his throat close up a bit. “Mum would be proud of Martyn, too, right? She would’ve been proud of both of us.”   
“She would’ve, don’t worry.” His father comforts him. “Now, when is the wedding? Before the birth? After? He will be marrying into the Howell royal family, correct?”   
“I mean it’s up to—” Dan begins, but Nigel cuts him off.  
“Daniel. King to King, tell me to my face that it would be even remotely possible for you to marry into the Lester family without combining our kingdoms.” Nigel then sighs, dramatically. “I do refuse to join our countries, Daniel. As much as our trading has always been excellent, we aren’t even allies. One step at a time to breaking the stigma of our countries, correct?”  
“The stigma around Etithoia is true,” Dan states simply. “There isn’t one good thing about it, if I’m being quite honest.”  
“But that’s why you’re there. You’re meant to fix it.” Nigel says, and then stands. “You’re a young ruler, Daniel. You’ve got room to grow, and thus far your life has been laid out on a page for you. I’ll allow you all to think about the details of the wedding, the only thing I ask is that it not take the attention away from Martyn and Cornelia. Phil never did like the spotlight.” With that, the King exits and all three of them relax in their chairs.   
“Bullet fucking dodged.” Dan breathes out.  
“Come on, I think it’s bed time,” Phil says, standing up and brushing off his slightly crumpled suit.   
Isabella is grateful Dan made them pack an overnight bag just in case they didn’t want to drive home so late. “Dan and I have overnight bags in the car, and we’ll need to give our chauffeur permission to leave,” she says, “but then we’ll meet you upstairs, okay?” Phil nods and kisses them both before the split ways. 

When Dan and Izzy come to Phil’s room hand-in-hand, he’s already changed into a night shirt and his pants and is in bed scrolling through things on his phone. Dan and Izzy both change into their night clothing and brush their teeth and faces before crawling into bed with Phil.   
Phil turns off the lights and crawls back into bed with them, giving Dan a kiss on the lips. Dan manages to deepen the kiss and nibble on his lower lip, eliciting a moan from Phil. Phil lets his mouth open into the kiss, and Dan takes the opportunity to explore his mouth with his tongue. Phil’s certain that boy men wouldn’t be against going further, but Isabella says, “Boys!” and they break apart quickly and hold Izzy instead.   
In the darkness, Phil swears to God that he sees something move past the window, but he’s too tired to think it’s anything other than a light shining in through the window causing a shadow. So instead of mentioning it, he lets himself be lulled to sleep, thinking of the people he’s sleeping next to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont be mad if chapter four comes nine years late bc like. theres always that need when you begin writing a fic to keep updating but then after a bit you wait nine years to update it and im gonna be at that stage in like a week


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, let me see, i wrote this over the spam of um Too Long and proofread it over the time of Too Short. if anyone wants 2 start betaing this fic hmu babes i have erm 0 knowledge of what im doing  
> i attempted to write smut and now i wanna die  
> Warnings for this chapter: smut, pregnancy, cussing, overuse of the word "tea", mentions of Shitty Living conditions

Twelfth of January

Opal Palace, Opal City

 

Dan wants to stay exactly here forever, but it’s ten a.m. and someone is shouting, “Philip Michael Lester!” through the door. Phil hasn’t woken up yet, how he hasn’t yet is an absolute miracle, and Dan knows that Isabella hasn’t been sleeping well and tonight might’ve been the first night she got a full eight hours of sleep.

So, he takes it upon himself to be the one to open the door; he gets out of bed and puts his pants on. The door swings open as he’s buttoning a pair of trousers and he’s face-to-face with a maid holding a tray. She pays him no attention and waltzes in, “You always sleep in after parties, so I decided to take you breakfast again. Your father will _not_ stop talking about the weddings coming up and—” she looks up at him and seems to realize that she’s _not_ talking to Phil.

She puts the tray on the dresser and curtsies. “Your Highness, I’m Julia, Philip’s maid.” She introduces herself and sticks out her hand; Dan shakes it with unsteady hands. He’s not sure why, but he feels as if he needs to gain her approval. Perhaps it’s the knowledge that she sees Phil more than he does, perhaps he just needs to put on his King persona and act like a functioning adult. He isn’t completely sure what compels him to, but he nods, and uncomfortably excuses himself to the bathroom.

He leans against the door of the bathroom and takes a steadying breath because holy _shit_ he’s such an embarrassment; he thinks that if he’s in the bathroom he might as well get ready for the day. It’s not as if he’s going to eat breakfast (he doesn’t even know if Julia brought them all breakfast, he hopes she manages to get some before Isabella wakes up). He brushes his teeth and skips washing his face, choosing instead to quickly splash himself with cold water in order to fully wake up. He climbs into the shower and scrubs himself with some of Phil’s body wash—which shouldn’t be as comforting as it is, but he likes the smell of Phil. It smells like home, cinnamon and spice, and a bit of woodsy smell.

When he emerges from the bathroom to get clothes, he has a towel wrapped around his waist. He hopes that Julia isn’t uncomfortable with it, he’s planning on climbing back into the bathroom anyways. He grabs a black sweater, a pair of pants and a pair of grey trousers.

Phil has woken up and is eating a slice of toast with his glasses on the brim of his nose. He and Julia are speaking in hushed whispers. “Did you see him? Holy shit, he’s hot, Phil,” Julia whispers after Dan scurries back into the bathroom.

“Trust me, I’m aware,” Phil assures her. “The boy is so pretty.”

 “So,” she says, keeping her volume low, “did, you know, anything _happen_?”

Phil shakes his head, “You care too much about my sex life,” He laughs at her. “If it’s that important to you, you should get your own.” He points out, she shakes her head.

“God, no. The last boy I dated was a dick.” She mutters.

“I know, I just can’t help but think that you haven’t had a boyfriend or girlfriend since I’ve come here.” He points out.

“ _I’m not gay!_ ” She shrieks playfully, and Phil rolls his eyes.

“I’ve seen the way you look at that one girl, what’s her name, Sydney?” Phil laughs, “Besides, do you _really_ think I’m about to judge your sexuality crises?”

She lets out a sad laugh as Dan sits down (fully clothed) next to them on the floor. “What are we chatting about?” He asks, adopting the whisper that the other two were speaking in earlier. He points to Phil’s toast, “Izzy will murder you if you forget to share that.” And Phil waves him off.

“How long are you planning on staying?” Phil asks, nudging Dan’s shoulder.

“I’m not sure. Whenever you get sick of us we’ll call someone to pick us up or hail a cab.” He says.

“There’s no way in _hell_ a cab will take you between the two countries.” Julia points out.

“Actually, most of them will assist you if you’re the prince of the country you’re headed to,” Dan states. “Probably because they assume I’ll tip them good, and I do.”

“I suppose being royalty has its perks,” Julia says begrudgingly. “Don’t you ever feel sort of bad that the rest of us don’t have that?” She asks.

“I feel horrible, but don’t you like the fact that you don’t have to handle an entire country?” Dan asks and pulls his phone out of his back pocket. Julia nods. “Oi, Philly, Isabella has a doctor’s appointment Saturday morning. We’ll leave at around lunchtime. Hold on, I have to call someone back.”

He stands and heads to the back of the room while Phil and Julia sit in silence and enjoy their meal. Isabella begins stirring and so Phil taps her shoulder and manages to get her to join the world of the living through the temptation of eggs and jelly toast.

“So,” Julia starts, focusing the conversation on a very sleepy Isabella. “How’s the baby?”

Izzy yawns and shrugs. “She’s good. Got a good amount of sleep last night.” Julia doesn’t attempt anymore conversation with Izzy after that.

While Isabella is earnestly eating her breakfast, Julia gives Phil a hug and a kiss on his forehead, before leaving out the door. Phil heads into the bathroom to get ready for the day, and heads out wearing a towel.

Isabella shuffles off of the bed, and Phil smiles widely at her. She flips him off and trudges into the bathroom.

Dan returns to Phil, his phone in hand. “The car will be here around one-thirty, so Izzy and I will probably start getting ready around one.” He says, closing the distance between both of them and putting his hands on Phil’s hips.

“I’ve missed you,” Dan murmurs against Phil’s neck and Phil laughs and kisses his head. “What? I’ve missed being able to do this,” He gives Phil a deep kiss, “and this,” he moves his lips down Phil’s neck, sucking and nibbling, “and _this,_ ” He rolls their hips together and rejoins their lips. He pulls away, looking at him lovingly, “and if you really want, you might get a blowjob.”

_That_ gets Phil excited, because he’s spent too many nights alone with just his hand and sultry text messages. And, sure, a blowjob at eleven a.m. isn’t the classiest form of sex but neither really care because all of the sudden, Dan mouth is moving steadily against his and it’s perfect.

It isn’t sloppy or rushed, it’s slow and languid and _intentional_. When Phil allows his mouth to open and Dan slips his tongue in, Phil knows that Dan isn’t just trying to get off. Phil feels a sudden surge of love for Dan and backs them both up until they’re making out against the door.

Dan grinds his hips against Phil’s and Phil can’t help but moan into the kiss at the friction. They’re both hard, and the knowledge that Dan wants him as much as he wants Dan makes him want to cry with relief. Dan begins moving down Phil’s neck until he’s at his nipples. He stays there for a bit, licking and twisting both of them before he leaves a trail of bites and nips to Phil’s naval.

Phil watches as Dan folds onto his knees and looks into Phil’s eyes as a silent request for consent, “Fuck, yes, Dan,” Phil groans, thrusting his hips a little. “Just get on with it.”

Isabella, goddamn her terrible timing, waltzes out of the bathroom. Dan rocks back on his heels and runs his tongue over his teeth, “Did I interrupt?” She asks, but she sounds like she knows exactly what she just interrupted.

“Slightly,” Dan sounds worn out.

“Well, I could always join you,” she offers, kneeling down next to Dan, and Phil _really_ just wants some sort of friction. She pulls Dan into a long and languid kiss, and without even realizing it, Phil’s hand has started palming himself through the fabric of the towel. Sure, the pressure is nice, but it really _isn’t_ enough. It makes him want more, but Dan and Izzy are really taking their time.

Izzy pulls away from Dan, “It really isn’t fair that Phil’s the only one naked, is it?” He asks her, and she blushes a bit.

“What are you going to do about that?” She asks coyly, and Dan begins to work on pulling her shirt off over her head. Phil’s breath catches for a moment at how large her stomach has gotten, how she literally glows, but then his dick catches up with the view and strains against the towel fabric. When Dan begins to work on unlatching her bra and kissing down her neck, she lets out a high-pitched breathy moan, and Phil bucks into his hand.

He kneels on the floor and begins working on kissing down her breasts. He’s learned from Dan that her nipples are as sensitive as Phil’s, if not more. “Phil,” She murmurs breathily, “Want—want you to fuck me.”

Phil lets out a shaky breath at that, “B-but the baby,” He starts to say, but Dan’s ahead of him.

“The baby will be fine, honey,” Dan assures his fiancé. “Come on, let’s move to the bed.”

Dan picks Izzy up bridal style and placed her on the bed before returning to kissing down her breasts like Phil had been doing earlier. Phil stroked his cock a couple of times through the towel before letting it drop to the floor. Dan’s working on taking on every bit of clothing on Izzy, even though he’s wearing an inappropriate amount still.

Phil walks over, and God he wishes he was sexy but he knows he’s not, over to the two people on the bed. Dan’s leaving a hickey on her inner thigh and Phil might not have a preference for women, but he _really_ likes Isabella.

She spreads her legs and guides Dan’s head from her thighs to in between her legs, and Phil can’t see what Dan is doing but he can make an educated guess from the moans that Isabella is giving out. His cock twitches at the noises, and he wraps his hand around it and gives it a couple of half-hearted tugs to alleviate the pressure tugging behind his balls.

“Phil,” She says, breathless, “You just going to watch or you going to join?”

He scrambles to the bed and takes Dan’s place in between Izzy’s legs. “Condom,” She groans, and Dan’s way ahead of her, tossing Phil a silver packet from the top drawer. He rolls the condom over his cock before looking at her, “Get on with it, Lester,” She grunts.

He complies, shifting his hips so that the head of his cock is against her hole before shifting his hips forewords slowly. She grits her teeth and shifts her hips around until she’s pushing back on his cock. It was only a matter of time before Dan started talking them both through it, him being a kinky little shit, and he needs to be involved _somehow_. It would feel uncomfortable to Phil if he was just watching them and not saying anything.

He leans down to kiss Isabella when he hears Dan grunt, “He’s good, right?” Into Isabella’s ear, making her laugh into Phil’s mouth. Obviously, he’s just dicking around with that statement, but his voice drops an octave with the next words he says as Phil begins to build up a steady rhythm. “He’s big though, fills up just the right ways,” He says, and Phil hears Izzy’s breathing hitch. “Oh, come on,” He taunts her. “Show our guest how _good_ you can be, you can do better than this, right? I know he’s doing better than I do, he always does, so _show_ him.”

She grabs Dan’s collar and pulls him into a rough kiss, before releasing him. He lets his mouth wander from hers and begins kissing down her breasts until he reaches his nipples again. She lets out a sultry moan, “Go faster, you fucker,” She grunts. Dan pulls away from her and sticks out his tongue with a giggle.

“Oh my God, ask politely you shrub,” He gives her a kiss on the lips, and she pulls apart with her hand on his throat. “Oh, what, you gonna choke me?” He taunts, and she tightens her hand, “You’re going to get the opposite effect that you’re going for, babe.” She lets her hand drop, instead, she chooses to caress his shoulders lightly.

It isn’t until Dan pulls out his leaking cock from his black trousers that Phil _really_ begins to pick up the pace. The fact that Dan’s gone this whole time without any friction is too hot, and he feels his balls draw closer to his body. Phil comes undone, giving Isabella a sloppy kiss on the lips and spilling into the condom with no warning. “Fuck,” she grunts into his mouth as he slides out of her.

He abandons the tied condom in the trash by the bed, and when he returns, Dan is knelt in between her legs again. He’s fisting his cock in one hand and working Isabella with the other—he supposes that he needs to work on having sex with women. How is he supposed to know if she’s cum yet? Will it be obvious? He’d only ever been with Isabella once before now but he’d never been inside of her, was it even a good experience for her?

He makes a mental note to ask her those things later, and instead makes himself home on his bed while Dan works himself and Izzy through their orgasms and come back to lay with him.

“We should shower,” Dan announces.

“Well, we just _did_ ,” Izzy points out, “But _you two_ just couldn’t keep it in your pants, could you?” Phil blushes, but Dan fires back.

“Oh, okay, so you joining was just a pity fuck right?” He gives her a look of somehow both hatred and adoration, and Izzy gives him a soft kiss.

“Of course it was, neither of you would’ve actually started anything. You just would’ve made out like schoolkids until you both needed new pants.” Phil rolls over to hug Izzy’s side with his body. “But, you’re right. We should shower, come on. You can join me, if you want.” She taunts, and Dan laughs.

“Fuck no, you steel all of the water.” He points out, but Phil really doesn’t want to spend the time for each of them to take three individual showers, so he hops up to join her.

 Izzy’s turning on the water when he enters the bathroom, “Oh, Philip,” She grins and gives him a kiss. “Dan’s going to join in—” She fakes looking at a watch on her wrist as Dan walks into the bathroom.

“Did you know that Julia has a key to your room?” He asks Phil.

Phil’s eyes widen.

“Fucking terrified her because I threw something at her, but she got the general message.” He says and climbs into the shower with Phil and Izzy.

 

Dan gets a phone call halfway through eating lunch—turkey sandwiches for Izzy and Phil and a salad for Dan. He returns with a smile, “So, Philip, would you like to come back to Kings with us?” He asks, and Phil almost squeals, but he holds his tongue.

“Really?” He asks, and Dan nods.

“Isabella, you have an ultrasound tomorrow.” He says, “If Phil comes along with us, he’ll be able to actually see the baby.” Phil nearly passes out with joy, holy _shit_! He’s going to get to go stay with the people he loves. He’ll be able to see his baby.

He just referred to the baby as _his_.

He feels a little guilty over the possessive word, but he’s too excited at the prospect of going home with the people he loves to even care much. He thinks about waking up next to them, about _living_ with them. He briefly wonders if Dan will pass some of the responsibility to him—he hopes to God not—and if Izzy has any responsibility over Etithoia.

“How long can I stay?” He asks, and Dan shrugs.

“As long as you want, dear.” He says. “If you can pack enough to live with us, fucking go for it.”

Phil nearly cries with joy, but then he distantly recalls that the car will arrive in an hour and he has a lot of shit to pack. He knows he could call a maid up, but that feels like cheating the system, so instead, he asks Izzy and Dan if they’ll help him.

They nod earnestly, and he grins at them before grabbing a duffle bag from his closet. He starts a mental checklist of things he’ll need—clothes, laptop and phone, chargers, and toiletries. He hopes that the medium duffle bag he grabbed is big enough, and thankfully, it’s just the right size.

By the time the three are done helping Phil through his frantic packing, the car has arrived. Dan receives three texts in rapid succession, and without even checking them, he announces that the car has arrived. Phil is grateful that he only ate a bit of lunch or else he would’ve thrown up from excitement.

He grabs the duffle back and Dan and Izzy both grab their overnight bags before the head downstairs to the main quarters. Phil never _ever_ takes the elevator (again, it feels like cheating the system. No one else gets to have an elevator in their homes.) but his legs are still a bit wobbly—he can’t tell if it’s from a good orgasm or the anxiety, probably both—so he sticks to the elevator. Dan gives him a look.

“You have an elevator and I’ve been taking some long-ass stairs this whole time?” He demands, and Phil looks a bit sheepish, even though he knows Dan isn’t _actually_ angry. “God, you and your ‘cheating the system’ bullshit. Be the privileged bitch that you are.”

The car ride to Steeple Palace is slow and uneventful, he scrolls through his Instagram (he’s not _supposed_ to have social media, but no one’s stopped him so far. Besides, it’s private and shows minimal personal information, so he’s cool with it.) The explore page is basic—slime videos littered here and there, but mostly videos of dogs and cats. He finds one post titled “ _Phanabella—my take on this whole fuckin mess_ ” and finds himself reading through a nine-paragraph caption about his relationship.

The just of the post is that the media probably twisted the photos and that while the author “ships it to hell and back” and “stans those sons of bitches” they think that it’s not real. The author (Phil checks the username—@ _conspiracylookingthottie__ ) says that they’ll come out when they’re ready, if they even are a trio, and that a couple of friendly photos say nothing about the status of their relationship.

“ _They’ve grown up together since they were young. All y’all fake ass bitches wanna ship them without knowing their history lol and that’s the tea :/ I kiss my friends on the cheek all the fucking time and idk if you’ve noticed but royals do it a shit ton so by that logic all of the royals of menia r fucking intoras royals. So babes theres ur daily t and uM bye_ ”

Phil thinks that they have a point, but that doesn’t stop the news from spreading to every country they associate with. He’s sure that the news of them staying together will also spread. Like Martyn said—word around the countries spreads fast no matter how secretive one is about it. There are spies everywhere, people who need to make a pretty penny off of scandals that could get rulers impeached any second, and just straight up lies. People will figure out whatever you’re hiding, regardless of how hard you try to keep it away from them.

He chooses to close the tab and ignore what he read. Dan doesn’t have an Instagram anyways, or a Facebook, or anything, for that matter. He has a twitter that he kept hidden for the longest time, but now uses it to keep updates on important events in the country (“and memes, but only occasionally,” He’d explained to Phil.) He’s sure Dan doesn’t need to be bothered with petty scandals, they’re common in Etithoia.

What would _really_ get him impeached is gang involvement, and Phil isn’t sure whether or not he is involved with gangs. He’s joked about it, sending henchmen or getting certain privileges from the gangs due to his status, but Phil’s always just assumed they were jokes. Dan’s always been too much of a softie to really have anything to do with the gangs of Etithoia, but it’s unnerved Phil nonetheless. Under Dan’s rule, the gangs have decreased a fuck-ton (but they’re still there, and everyone knows it), and crime has decreased mostly. Phil’s seen the massive difference from Dan’s father to Dan.

When Dan’s father was alive, too many old traditions were still in place in Etithoia. It was an area that people would specifically _not_ invite to events like balls or weddings simply due to the fear they’d embedded within themselves. Dan took that fear and changed it into something else, but Phil isn’t quite sure what the something is. It isn’t love, it isn't hated. It’s more like interest—everyone is intrigued to see Dan’s next move for the country.

A Menian and Etithoian marrying was unheard of before Dan and Isabella, Menia was too much of a joyous country of farmland. They were known for their production and exporting of farm good and were excellent allies to have in case of financial crisis, whereas Etithoia had hardly anything.

Phil feels a surge of pride at that knowledge—that Dan had improved everything about Etithoia. The economy had improved, he had lessened border control and lowered the reigns that his father had held over immigration, he’d decreased military spending and increased education spending and financial support.

The best thing by far was the increase in affordable medical care that Dan had made readily available. It wasn’t at the point where Intora was, not even close, but for one ruler, Dan had changed practically everything about it. It was important, too. Over thirteen percent of Etithoians lived under the Intoran poverty limit and couldn’t afford basic housing or medical assistance.

Phil simply wants to kiss him, but instead, he settles for resting his head against Dan’s shoulder and looking out Dan’s window. Isabella hadn’t gotten sick so far, but Phil had avoided cuddling her in case she experienced a random nausea-fit. “I love you,” He whispers into Dan’s neck.

Dan pulls out an earbud and cocks his head, “What was that, love?”

“I love you,” He says, with more confidence. “I’m proud of you. You’ve turned out to be a very impressive ruler.” He says simply, and Dan blushes slightly.

“No, no,” He says. “I’m definitely not a good ruler, I mean, you could do _so_ much better—”

Phil gives him a kiss to shut up his rambling. “You’re a marvelous ruler, baby.” He says against Dan’s lips, and gives him another kiss to keep him from arguing. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Philly.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmm i still hate it  
> warnings: pregnancy, implied (?) smut, implied (?) violence, swearing

Thirteenth of January

Steeple Palace, Kings

Phil misses Julia.

It’s the first thing he thinks when he wakes up with Dan’s arms around his waist and Isabella’s face buried in his neck. He likes being in between them, they’re both so warm and comfortable, but he needs to use the bathroom. He moves Dan’s arms from around his waist with minimal protests and moves over Isabella and out of the bed.

Isabella makes a noise that sounds vaguely like, “What are you doing?” as Phil maneuvers around her and onto his feet.

“I’m using the bathroom,” He whispers, giving her a kiss by her hair.

“Don’t be long,” She says, her words slurring, before she moves closer to Dan and tucks her head into his chest. Within seconds, her breathing has evened out and her eyes are closed peacefully in sleep.

He gives her another kiss on her hair before heading into Dan’s bathroom.

Being in his bathroom is uncomfortable—his shower has odd knobs on it, his whole bathroom feels much too big for some reason. He supposes that he always gotten a smaller room because he had a “lower” status, but now he’s staying in a King’s room, which means he’s _literally_ at the top of the food chain.

He struggles to get the shower going, but eventually, he discovers which knob is hot water and which knob is cold water. Thankfully, it’s not too complicated, and he gets in the shower within a couple of minutes. He really doesn’t want to get out of the bathroom to grab his bag, so instead, he uses Dan’s body wash.

(He hopes it’s Dan’s body wash—there’s two bottles of similar things, and Phil doesn’t want to smell like honey suckle and lavender despite how good Isabella smells.)

Thankfully, he grabs the correct bottle of wash as he begins lathering his body in soap. It smells like mint and eucalyptus—exactly like Dan. He shampoos his hair and thinks about home— _his_ home. He distinctly wonders how Dan will react if he asks him to bring Julia to the palace. It’s not Dan’s stingy or anything, but Phil still worries.

What if he didn’t like Julia, and so he says no? What if he tells Phil that he can’t allow her to live in the palace because she’s Intoran?

He takes a breath and turns off the water before stepping out of the shower. He refuses to use Dan or Isabella’s toothbrush—that’s disgusting, regardless of how often they kiss—and wraps a towel around his waist to grab his bag.

Isabella and Dan are awake, but they’re not out of bed. Instead, Dan has retrieved his laptop from his desk and Isabella is looking over his shoulder, occasionally pointing at things and saying, “Is that right? I think those are off,” before grabbing her phone and opening the calculator app.

Phil grabs his duffle bag and rummages through it before reaching his bag of toiletries and heading back into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

He skips washing his face, rather choosing to splash his face with cold water and apply his deodorant.

He combs his hair back until he deems it relatively good-looking, and then exits the bathroom to change clothes. When he emerges from the bathroom, Dan has a distressed look, and Isabella’s comforting him about something. “It’ll be fine,” She tells him. “It’ll be fine. This is just a bump, okay?” and Dan nods, giving her a kiss.

“What’s happened?” Phil asks, hoping he doesn’t sound too nosy.

Dan shakes his head. “Boring stuff. Economic stuff.” He mutters, and Phil’s look must persuade him to keep talking, because he does. “It’s just so _stupid_.” He mutters, “Jobs need to be made but instead, companies are rapidly closing to reconcile with the money loss due to needing to supply their employees with a livable wage.” He puts his head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do. Unemployment is so high and so many companies are cutting down on jobs.”

“What’s minimum wage here?” Phil asks, because sue him, he doesn’t know anything about foreign countries.

“Five-forty,” Dan mutters. “It’s definitely not livable, but it’s close because of the new housing bill and medical care bill.”

Phil shivers, “It’s twelve dollars in Intora,” He says, and then feels like shit for saying it. Dan knows that, Dan knows that his people aren’t able to live, but the big corporations were using Etithoia as a way to get cheap labor for so long and he’ll need to gradually build up to a proper minimum wage.

“Trust me, Phil,” Isabella says, “We’re aware. Our country has been the shithole dumping site of everyone else for so long. Cheap labor is so common and illegal operations too because _everyone_ here is poor and we’re the only ones who have food, at this point.” She says.

“We could put the one idea into operation,” Dan suggests, and Phil wants to know what the _‘one idea’_ is but he holds his tongue. “The one with the donations of excess food.” He says.

Phil grabs an outfit from his bag and turns around and lets the towel drop before getting ready for the day. He hears Izzy hum in agreement before saying, “The bill or the operation?”

“Either one, really.” Dan says, turning towards Izzy. “I’ve been thinking about setting the bill into publicity for a while now, but I haven’t really had the guts.”

“You should do it,” Izzy says, giving him a soft kiss on his cheek. “I received an email from the housing units—they say that they don’t have any funding for buying food or clothing. Having companies donate whatever they don’t sell under they law would be pretty helpful for most of them. The biggest needs right now are food, furniture, and clothing.” She explains.

“I got the same email,” He says, “They want to have more reasons for the upper class to support them.”

“Tax write-offs,” Izzy suggests. “Menia has them. If you donate to a shelter you get a portion of your taxes taken off depending on how much you donated that year.” Dan nods, typing down additions to the notepad he has open. “Bring that up at the meeting, yeah?” She asks, and he nods.

“Will do, love.” He opens up a tab for his email and types out a new email to his advisors.

“Advisors” is their title, but their job is to convince Dan that he’s making bad decisions. Dan tends to not listen, and he takes it upon himself to prove them wrong at every opportunity. He begins typing his email.

_To: Winston Davidson, Logan Brookes, Kate Ingrid, Taylor Nelson_

_Cc: Isabella Howell, Emily Howell_

_Subject: Monday’s Meeting_

_To whom it may concern,_

_There is to be a royal advisory meeting held on Monday the fifteenth of January in the grand common meeting hall._

_The topics to be covered:_

_-Bill 1197; topics of minimum wage_

_-Living conditions of citizens below poverty limit_

_-Introduction and editing of Bill 1198; topics of food, clothing, and furniture donations_

_-Corporate interference with daily life_

_Sincerely,_

_Prince Daniel James Howell_

 

He hates the flow of the email, hates the fact that he has to write “to whom it may concern”, and hates the way he has to be _just_ vague enough but also specific enough.

He ignores his hatred of the sentences he wrote in favor of focusing on the fact that he now has a plan for what he’s going to actually say. Every meeting he’s gone to has either been information packed or completely void of any plans, and Dan hates both.

He supposes he just hates his job, really.

Phil crawls into the bed next to Dan, and Dan attempts to give him a kiss, but Phil pushes him away. “Your breath is disgusting. It’s nine a.m., brush your teeth.” He scolds, and Dan fakes offence.

“I will have you know I was doing important business.” He says, but gets up anyways to get ready for the day. He washes himself off in the shower, brushes his teeth, and gets dressed for the day. He ends up wearing a plain shirt and a plain pair of trousers; he doesn’t have to make a presentation, so he will be wearing lounge clothing _thank you very much_. Dan emerges from the bathroom with soaked hair, before motioning to Isabella to go after him.

“What are you doing today?” Phil asks.

 _“Writing a bill_. And you’re going to go to the doctor’s with Izzy.” He says, completely monotone. Phil can’t gauge whether or not he’s being serious until he looks at his tired eyes and understands. Of course he’s being serious, he has an entire country to transform. If he doesn’t do it to the best ability, other countries look down at him even though they have to hardly do anything. He sighs and flops himself onto their bed. “It’s not like I _want_ to, but ever day without this bill going public is another day of wasted material for the housing units.”

Phil nods in understanding, and falls on top of Dan dramatically, spreading his arms out so that he’s put his full weight on top of Dan’s. He grunts, “Thanks, Phil.”

“No probably. You stress yourself out.”

“So, you’re going to be my human blanket?” Dan asks into the duvet.

“Yep.”

Dan lets out a content hum, before rolling them over and leaning against Phil. “I really do have to write this, but there’s breakfast downstairs in the kitchens. If you want some, you and Izzy can go together. She always needs to eat before she goes to the doctor’s, but—”

“But eating this early always upsets your stomach,” Phil finishes, giving him a slow kiss on the lips. When he pulls back, Dan’s smile is a little more real, and his shine a little brighter than before. “Izzy and I will grab food and head off, you stay up here and work, okay?” Dan nods, and pulls him into another slow and happy kiss before crawling up the bed and putting his laptop on his thighs.

He opens the document he was working on earlier, and hesitantly begins to type as Isabella exits the bathroom and joins Philip at breakfast.

_Bill 1198_

_To go into effect (n/a)_

_Under the Daniel Howell Advisory_.

_180 Steeple Drive, Kings, 33478, Etithoia_

 

_The Bill 1198 is to be a solution for the lack of food, furnishings, and clothing available to housing units around the country._

He stares at the sentence, before deleting it off of the template.

_House Bill 1198 is a solution to the country-wide issue that housing units have been experiencing since their opening and endorsements. The bill will encourage citizens above the poverty line to donate to said units with compensation in the form of tax write-offs. The bill also aims to provide corporate-donated materials by creating a system where companies can donate unused food, furnishings, clothing, and items to the units in return for government-given tax write-offs._

He looks at the paragraph, which seems much more put together than the simple sentence he’d written out before, and continues to work. He wants to make the bill seem as appealing as possible—the more appealing it is, the more the citizens will accept it.

_The goal of the tax write-offs (which are to be provided by in receipts by the units) is to reduce the tax that one has to pay on job income and housing. Should a citizen need to limit their debt to the government of Etithoia—whether it be taxes, student loans, or any other debt—they can provide the receipt on their taxation logs in order to receive compensation for their good deed._

_In order to receive a write-off, the citizen or business representative will deliver the products (through mail or personal visiting to the donation site) and receive a letter back with the items the unit received. The unit will keep a digitalized copy of all receipts in order to provide any lost receipts to donors. The amount that the donor donates to the unit will affect the amount taken off of taxes or debts._

_Is that good? Does it flow well?_ He hopes it does, because he sends the document in a follow-up email to the same group of people. He chooses not to write out a formal email, the subject and the document practically explain themselves, anyways. He signs it and presses send, hoping that they read it before Monday. They hardly ever do, and then end up confused when he brings up whatever document he’d emailed them over the weekend.

He stands up, stretches his arms, and checks the time: twelve-fifteen. He knows lunch will be served soon, but his stomach is heavy with the anxiety of Monday’s meeting, and he chooses to skip out. Instead, he texts Isabella a quick, “ _where are you? Done with bill xx,_ ” and goes back to mindlessly typing notes into his laptop, feeling semi-productive.

_From: Izzy_

_We’re outside. The snow was super pretty lol_

She sends him a picture of her and Phil outside, both covered in snowflakes all over. Phil’s eyes are bright and shining and he’s jumping in the background of the photo.

_From: Izzy_

_we want 2 go out for lunch B)_

_To: Izzy_

_Where tho like that’s whats important_

_From: Izzy_

_Obviously that 1 diner at the edge of kings_

_U kno the 1 with the fairy lights :)_

_To: Izzy_

_Sure yea id be down_

_Do u want to take a car or walk_

_From: Izzy_

_Can we not walk my feet hurt_

_Will show u pics of the ultrasound at lunch. We’ve got neeeeeeeewssss_

He puts his phone down and closes his laptop screen. He puts his shoes on and joins Izzy and Phil outside, “We’ll have to tell someone where we’re going.” He tells them. “And we should probably bring, like, a guard or two.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Izzy says happily. “Drake and Josh?” She says, and Dan laughs.

“Yeah, sure, if neither are working right now.” He says.

 

Phil likes the restaurant. It’s pretty, simple, and their food is good. Fairy lights are strung up around the building and the lights are dimmed so that they stand out even more. He ordered a plate of fish and chips and some ice cream and is _extremely_ grateful that he did.

Dan and Isabella split a vegetarian pizza with mozzarella sticks, and Phil turns his nose up to it. He likes cheese on pizza, but this pizza looks _too_ cheesy, and it has at least four cheeses on it according to the menu. The waitress said hi to Dan and Isabella as if they were old friends in university, “Oh! How are you? It’s been a while; I was starting to worry that you didn’t like our food anymore.” But both Dan and Isabella assure her that they would _never_ stop visiting the diner.

Phil learns that Drake and Josh did _not_ mean the television show characters and instead a burly guard with strange resemblance to musician Drake and a tall curly-haired man literally named Josh. He’s sort of disappointed, but upon watching them interact with each other, becomes very happy.

“Drake” (apparently his name is Fergreck, Phil understands why everyone calls him Drake) keeps feeding Josh food and giving him compliments. Phil didn’t know that he would ever wish two bodyguards would date, but right now, he really wants them to just admit their undying love for each other. This must be how the internet feels about Dan and Phil, he thinks.

They eat in silence, occasionally making jokes or talking about their days, but it’s a comfortable silence. Dan’s holding his hand underneath the table and every time Izzy bumps her foot playfully against his he blushes deeply.

Towards the end of the meal, as everyone is taking their last bites of food, Izzy turns to Dan. “So, the doctor found something interesting.” She says, and Phil grows stiff. He completely forgot about it before, but now he’s anxious of Dan’s reaction. “Laurie’s going to have another sibling.”

Dan looks confused, his brain catching up with the words before he squeals and wraps her into a hug. “Twins? Oh my God,” He exclaims, and Phil _knows_ they’re attracting attention, but Dan gives them both long kisses and then begins crying and he’s never been happier. “We’re going to have two of them, holy fuck. I totally called it.”

Izzy laughs, “Yea, yea, you were right all along,” She says lovingly and giving him a quick kiss. Dan drops a kiss onto Phil’s hand and wipes his happy tears away with the other.

“I’m just so excited,” He says. “I—I just—”

Phil cuts him off with a kiss, and he smiles into Dan’s mouth. “Let’s go home, come on.” Phil says, pulling away. “Head out before we get mobbed or some shit.”

They head out, Dan slams a twenty percent tip for the waitress onto the table, and the waitress gives all of them hugs and her congratulations as they leave. Dan’s so happy, he won’t stop talking about names for the babies.

“You can keep ‘Laurie’ but I want to name the other one!” He says, and Isabella gives him a look.

“I’m going to push a screaming watermelon out of my _vagina,_ you have no right to name either of them.” She accuses playfully, and Dan pouts.

“Laurie Anne and Jordan Isabella.” He says.

“Jordan Isabella is ugly,” Phil argues. “Isabella Jordan.”

“No, that’s too close to my name,” Isabella complains.

“What if one of them is a boy and one is a girl?” Dan asks, “Then can we name a baby Jordan?”

She rolls her eyes at his eagerness, “You’ll get your Jordan, I promise.”

He pecks her cheek and gives them both a goofy smile before leaning against Izzy’s shoulder and snuggling into the backseat of the car.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings-- implied kidnap, implied/mentioned murder, implied/mentioned violence, pregnancy, swearing  
> I keep avoiding the inevitable "pregante?" jokes but im also VERY tempted to just throw in the towel and make this a crack fic

Fifteenth of January

Steeple Palace, Kings

 

Apparently, for once in their lives, Dan’s advisors had actually read the document he’d sent. Winston is the first to speak, “Sir,” He says, “Where would we get the money to replace the write-offs?” He asks.

Dan gets a bit excited, “See, there’s the thing. Currently fourteen-percent of all taxes go into helping furnish, feed, and clothe the people at the units. We wouldn’t need to do that as much if people willingly help us, so we’d cut out the percentage of their money that would go into the units. The taxes that are left over from that would go into other things like education, medical care, or helping create new jobs by funding public projects.” He says.

“What about the job drought?” Logan points out, “Won’t we be getting more people at the units? How will we prep for this?” He asks.

“The public projects would create jobs,” He starts explaining. “Like, we could do something to encourage people to take part in farming for food droughts, working as litter-monitors like people in Intora do, or we could have citizen-run city projects like road work or construction.”

Kate and Taylor both seem like they’re on board. Taylor had been a volunteer of a unit before Daniel had decided to hire her, and Kate had been supported by the units before she was hired. Winston, however, doesn’t like Daniel putting the tax money into anything other than war-based projects. Winston was his father’s advisor before he was Dan’s, and he tries to convince Dan that the military and border control deserve the most focus.

Logan seems on the fence, but eventually he nods. “I think it’s a good idea. There’s flaws, but it’s a good plan. We’ll keep refining it before we introduce it, but I think it’s a safe bet to call this an official bill.”

“What about the minimum wage? We’re losing so many companies, where would this waste even come from if all of these companies are gone?” Winston demands.

“Don’t you think they’d stay because of the enticement of tax write-offs? They’d be able to pay off most of their debts for trademarking, marketing, income taxes, and more.” Taylor points out. “I think if this bill gets put in place in time, more businesses will stay than go.”

Kate nods in agreement, “She’s right. There are nine main companies that are threatening to pull out of business with Etithoia. With this bill, I’m sure at least five would stay.”

They call it a day before Winston can say something about how they’re all incompetent and stupid. Dan _really_ needs to fire that man, maybe when he’s on the streets he’ll learn to appreciate the units and the medical care. But, right now, he’ll keep ignoring Winston’s presence at meetings and hope to _God_ he does some sort of scandal to get fired.

Dan briefly wonders if there’s anyway to strip him of all his power and money. He’s sure that there is, he’s the ruler, after all. He could just make it a law. He really hates using his power for bad, but that man really deserves the worst.

He pushes the thought away and trudges into their room. Phil’s laying on the bed with Isabella tucked into his side, snoring lightly. Phil’s reading a book out loud and using the hand that Izzy’s laying on to rub her baby bump soothingly.

He knocks on the door frame, looking at Phil with soft eyes. Phil smiles at him, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “Why, hello there, stranger,” He says, “How was the meeting?”

“It was,” Dan takes a breath, laying down on Phil’s other side. “It was a meeting.”

“Oh? Bad?” Dan shakes his head.

“Not really. Just… frustrating.” He puts his head on Phil’s chest. “We should go out for dinner.” He says. “We should go somewhere local.”

“Where do you want to go?” Phil asks, running his fingers through Dan’s tangled curls.

“Lanie’s?” He asks, and Phil laughs at him.

“Ah, yes, let’s take out pregnant partner to a _bar_. Nice try, babe,”

“Fine, what do you have in mind?” Dan asks, sitting up so that he can look at Phil properly.

“Hmm…” Phil ponders. “Louise’s?”

Dan nods, and gives Phil a sweet kiss on the mouth. “How long has that one,” He motions towards Isabella’s sleeping figure, “been napping? Does she need to be woken up?”

“No, she’s only been napping for ten minutes.” Phil responds. “Besides, she’s got twins. It’s a bit rough on her.” Phil says, rubbing her small bump some more.

“I can’t wait until the babies can start kicking, like, _properly_.” Dan says happily.

“I can’t wait until they’re _born_.”  Phil says, and Dan laughs. “Just a couple more months, right?”

Dan rolled his eyes, “Ah, yes, seven months is a ‘couple.’” He jokes. “Besides, I don’t know if I’m ready for the _birth_. That seems a bit, erm, terrifying.”

“Well, yea, but there will be two of us. Worst comes to worst, one of us can pass out, at least.” Phil points out. “Most dads don’t have backup dads incase they pass out in the delivery room.”

“I suppose,” Dan says. “Though, neither of us do well with blood.”

“Remember when you cut your foot at two a.m. on a broken wine glass? Both of us threw up,” Phil laughs, and Dan groans.

“Maybe now you’ll remember to clean up your messes before I lose a limb,” He says sassily.

“Should we wake up to start getting going? I’m hungry.” Phil asks.

“Sure, but _you_ can deal with mom-zilla. I’m going to get a car and two guards.” Dan says, rolling out of bed and stretching his limbs out.

It isn’t until he’s about the open the door that Phil gets a call.

He answers, “Hello? This is Philip.”

“ _Phil,_ ” The voice on the other line said.

“Oh, Julia!” He says happily, “What’s up?”

“ _Did you see anything suspicious the night before you left? Someone, perhaps, in your room or something?_ ” She asks, and Dan sees him freeze.

“W-why?” He asks shakily.

“ _Thought I heard someone in your room when I was about to clean. Tried the knob, locked from the inside._ ” She says, nearly crying. “ _Went to the tapes, and your room doesn’t have a fucking camera, Phil_. _You don’t have a camera because you wanted to keep you and Dan a total secret before, and now there’s someone in your room. Everyone knows, there’s two guards outside your door now. You could’ve been killed. They’re not even talking they’re just babbling, I’m freaking the fuck out_.”

“The night before I left I—” He takes a choked sob. “Thought I saw someone moving around the room, but I ignored it. Didn’t think it was a big deal. Didn’t want to freak anyone out.”

“ _Did you see anyone come in? Or just see them?_ ”

“I-I just s-saw them walking around. I never saw them open a window or door, it was just a shadow moving. Thought I was seeing something.” He’s nearly sobbing now and has woken Isabella up. She pats his back comfortingly.

“ _We don’t know what they know, or why they’re here._ ” She says, “ _Martyn and Cornelia were moved to a secondary location and your father is with them. They’re all safe but—_ ”

“But what?”

“ _There are people and things missing. Two guards are missing, and nine books from your father’s study. There’s a bunch of food missing from the kitchen, and a key ring for the dungeons is missing too._ ”

“Holy shit.”

“ _Holy shit is right._ ” She says, “ _Look, Phil, not to sound needy but you’ve got to get me out of here. I’ve heard rumors that a maid was found dead, too, it’s getting really fucking weird around here and I don’t want to be in this place when it comes to a head._ ”

“Put me on the phone with a chaueffer.”

“ _Sir, how may I assist you?_ ” The man asks over the phone, and Phil recognizes the voice.

“Gerald,” He says thankfully. “Bring Julia to me, immediately. I’m staying in Steeple Palace and would appreciate having my personal maid with me.” He says.

“ _How quickly_?”

“Right now, leave _right now_.” Phil encourages before hanging up the phone and reclining in the bed.

“What the hell was that about?” Dan demands, and Phil flinches at his tone.

“Th-there’s some weird shit going on.” He says. “A man is in my room, two guards have gone missing, there’s a rumor that a maid was found dead. Books and keys are missing.” He says.

“What the fuck,” Dan mutters.

“I don’t know, but I want Julia out of there and safe. She’s staying with us, and it’s non-negotiable.” Phil says, and Dan nods.

“Anyone else? Is your dad okay? Martyn and Cornelia?” He asks, and Phil nods.

“Julia said that they’ve all been moved to secondary locations. I hope they’re okay.” He rubs his hands together in hopes to assuage his anxiety.

“Me too, love.” Dan gives him a kiss. “We don’t have to go out, if you don’t want to.”

Izzy yawns, “We were going out?”

“No, it’s fine. I still want to go.” Phil says, and turns to Izzy. “Yea, we’re going to Louise’s. We were going to wake you up, but then Julia called.”

“Oh,” she yawns and rubs the sleep out of her eyes. “Are we leaving now?”

Dan nods, “Get your shoes on, come on.” He gives them both kisses and heads out the door to get a car and guards.

 

“You know,” Dan says while they’re sat in the booth. “We won’t be able to do this whole ‘sporadically going on dates’ thing when the twins are born.”

“Oh, God, we’ll have to hire someone to watch them. Or even worse, have to _spend time with our kids_.” Izzy says exaggeratedly.

“We’ll forgive me for wanting to spend time with my partners without two screaming watermelons.” Dan murmurs.

A woman in a white blouse and black skirt comes walking towards their table, and Daniel and Isabella both wave. “Well, I heard my favorite customers were in town, so I just _had_ to visit you.” She speaks with a thick Menian accent, and Phil wonders why she moved from Menia to _here_.

“Hi, Louise!” Dan and Izzy say in sync, and Louise pulls all three of them into hugs.

“So, this is Philly,” She looks him up and down before nodding. “He’s a cutie, you both scored.” Dan and Izzy both look at Phil with adoration, and Louise speaks again. “Alright, so, my favorite party; what can I get you today?” She holds up her notepad.

“Oh, can I have the vegan tacos?” Dan asks, and she quickly writes something down on her paper. “And a Ribena, if that’s not too much?” Louise just nods and looks at Izzy.

“Can I have the three-cheese burger?” She asks, and Louise nods and writes it down, “And to drink I just want a water with lemon.”

“No champagne?” Louise winks at Isabella, “Thought I suspected something was off with you. You’re glowing.”

Izzy blushes, “My due date is in July.”

“Aw, congrats, baby,” Louise coos. “You’ll have a little one for Pearl to play with.”

“How does Darcy feel about being an older sister?” Dan asks, and Louise smiles.

“She adores Pearl, love,” She turns to Phil. “Now, what does the Lord Philip himself fancy?”

“Oh, um, can I have the broccoli and cheese soup and a Coke?” He asks, she looks at him sadly.

“Only Pepsi products here, babe,”

“Louise! Don’t mess with him, give him a Coke,” Dan scolds, and Louise raises her hands in mock surrender.

“Your food will be ready soon.”

A chorus of, “Thank you, Louise,” rang up from the table and she blew them all a kiss. Isabella pretended to catch it and wink, but Dan slapped the hand that she’d just “caught” the kiss with.

“So,” Dan says. “How are our little monsters doing?” He asks, and Isabella shrugs.

“Not too bad today, but I did have a nap.” She says, “Besides, I’m sure it’ll be worse later on.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Dan murmurs into her neck, “I wish there was something I could do.”

“Oi,” He hears Louise call, “No PDA in my wholesome restaurant, alright?” She calls, and pokes his nose. “Now, a Coke, a water, and a Ribena,” the three claim their drinks. “Here’s some chips and a bread, yes I’ve brought extra butter.” She sets the food down. “Now, your food will be out in a couple of minutes, okay? Try not to fuck each other on my table, I just wiped it down.”

Dan and Isabella both blush through a, “Thank you, Louise. Sorry, Louise,” as Louise leaves to wander through the halls.

Dan and Phil split the chips with each other while Isabella digs into the bread. “I’m starved,” Isabella groans while stuffing another piece of bread into her mouth.

“Slow down, Iz, you’ll get a stomachache before dinner’s even arrived.” Dan tells her. She looks him dead in the eyes, and stuffs another piece of bread into her mouth, and licks her fingers exaggeratedly. Dan looks away and shakes his head, “I’m so fucking uncomfortable from that, Izzy.”

She scoffs, “Shut up, Moody King. Look, there’s our food.” She points at a tray of food that Izzy is bringing their way.

“Alright, your royal-dicks, I’ve brought your food.” Louise announces and puts the food in front of them. “Now, if you don’t mind. I’m sitting with you.” She squeezes into the booth with Phil.

“What’s up with all of you guys? How’s life been treating you?” She asks.

“Not good.” Dan mutters. “We’re having twins, though. That’s good, right?”

Louise gives him a look. “Twins? For your first babies? Oh, bear.” She holds his hand over the table. “I can hardly hand two and they’re completely different ages, and I _don’t_ have to rule a whole country.” He swallows a bit, and she retracts all of her previous statements, “I’m sure you’ll be fine, though. You’ll have nannies and doctors and so many things to make this the easiest it can be, okay?”

Isabella nods, “I’m not worried. There’s three of us, so we’ll be able to split the responsibility easier than most families can.” She gives Dan a look, “No more after these two, okay? This is it. No more.” Dan nods and raises his hands in mock surrender.

They eat their meal in peace for the rest of it, but the back of Phil’s mind he wonders how Julia’s doing. When they’re paying for the meal, Phil receives a text from Julia that she’s four minutes away from the palace, and Dan calls the guards to expect a car from Intora and gives a description of the car before hanging up.

 

When Julia is there, she looks like a mess. She has bags under her eyes, her shirt and jeans are rumpled and disgusting, and she looks as if she’s been crying the whole car ride. “A-are you okay?” Phil asks her, and she shakes her head “no”.

“There’s too much happening.” She says, sitting on his bed. “I want to nap for nine years.”

“That’s a coma,” Dan says, and he watches as she reclines on their bed.

“I want to die, Dan.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She sits back up. “Can I take a shower?”

“Uh, yea. Go for it,” Dan says pointing towards the bathroom and taking her spot on the bed. He pats the spot next to him and Phil and Izzy comply, taking their spots under the covers with him.

They stay there, curled around each other, until Julia emerges from the bathroom in new clothes, “C-can I have a room to stay in?” Julia asks, and Dan gets out of bed to show her the room across from his.

The room is meant to be for the Princess, but they’d always just shared a room. It seemed stupid to Dan that they’d given the married couple separate rooms; they were connected by a door, but that was about it. It didn’t make sense, so they’d just shared Dan’s room.

He wishes Julia a goodnight and returns to his own room, squeezing on the other side of Isabella and wrapping his arms around her waist.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the warning list just gets gradually more worrisome as i continue to update  
> it used to be like "warnings! they luv each other 2 much aha :)" but now it's like "a bitch gets stabbed, be prepped"
> 
> warnings: fire, murder attempt, pregnancy, illness, mentions of the death of loved one, swearing, implied smut, implied violence

Seventeenth of January

Steeple Palace, Kings

 

Dan wakes up to an alarm blaring, and he grabs his wife’s hand and pulls her to her feet. “What the fuck is happening?” She manages to say in a slurred haze, and Dan shrugs and pulls Phil to his feet as well.

“Julia,” Phil stammers out, “Get Julia.”

Dan rushes into her room and finds her hiding in the corner with her hands over her ears. Frantically, he pushes her towards the group and leads them down the winding staircase until they are outside. Dan had managed to grab a coat when they were inside, but now he sees Julia shivering in the winter win, and hands her his coat.

He is grateful that they’d been so tired they hadn’t undressed. They usually sleep bare except for their underwear, but they’d all been so wiped out from yesterday’s events that they had simply fallen asleep with each other. As soon as they’re outside, a guard finds them, breathing heavily. “Car,” he says, “now. I’ll explain when we get far enough away.”

Dan nods, and follows him to the car that is waiting at the loop of the palace. Once they’re a safe distance away, the man starts to explain, “Someone—someone started a fire in four different rooms.” He manages, and Dan gasps.

“Someone fucking _what_?”

“It was an inside job, I’m sure of it. I’ve been given orders from your advisors to bring the four of you to a secondary location in Intora where Prince Martyn and King Nigel have been staying after the attack on their castle.” The guard stops to take a breath. “We don’t know who did it but from the things I’ve heard… it was bad. Apparently, had you been any closer to the west wing, you would’ve burned alive before you’d even heard the sirens.”

“Who the fucking hell would do this?” Dan demands, and he’s _fuming_.

There are fire trucks, a fuck ton, rolling past them frantically. His first instinct is that someone followed Julia to the palace—but that’s practically impossible. He is well aware of the evils in the world and only allowed heavily vetted people inside of the palace.

Except for Julia.

Julia couldn’t have started the fire, could she? She was in her room when Dan rushed to find her but…

But he trusts Phil’s judgment.

He’ll just be a bit wearier of her from now on.

Isabella puts her head on her shoulder, “Who has bad blood with you?” She asks in a hushed whisper. “Besides the obvious.”

The obvious being Winston and his group of friends. “You don’t think…”

“I don’t know,” she responds, “if he did it, I wouldn’t be surprised but…”

“But?” He urges.

“Doesn’t attempting to kill you seem a bit severe?”

He thinks for a minute over James, the guards, words. The fires had all been set in the west wing, where no one slept. He’d kept the west wing closed due to superstition, there was a rumor it was cursed, and he _didn’t_ need any evil in his life. He didn’t believe in curses, but the west wing unsettled him. It still does, even more now than usual.

“They weren’t trying to kill anyone,” he says, tentatively. “If it was an inside job, they would know that the west wing is off limits. Hardly anyone goes there, ever. Say they just wanted to scare us or—”

“Or?”

“Take money away from the bill.”

“Oh my God.”

“Holy fuck, someone… how did—”

“It’s Winston, that conniving son-of-a-bitch, I’ll rip him to pieces.” She announces.

“We don’t know that yet, but I’ll call for an investigation. For now, I want my entire advisory separated and given severely monitored contact with each other. We don’t know who’s on our side and who’s not.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” she agrees. “They could be passing information to each other,” she brushes his messy curls out of his face softly, “People take advantage of your kindness.”

“I-I didn’t think they’d be willing to go this far.”

“What do we do?” She asks, and he sighs.

“We can’t give in. We have to live with the damage, I refuse to back down on my position and take tax money away from the people. That’s _their_ money, we have no right on using it to repair our home,” he points out and looks over to see Izzy grimace and grab her belly. “You okay?

“Y-yea,” She breathes shakily, “I feel super uncomfortable. The babies don’t like this, at all.”

Dan puts his hand on her belly, “Hello, babies. I’m your father. While I love knowing that you’re alive and well in there, your mommy needs her sleep, yea? You keep her up all the time and she’ll not be a nice mommy when you get welcomed into the world. You don’t want her to be mean, I mean, I do, but—”

“Daniel!” She exclaims, and he laughs at her.

“What? Was the too much information?” He asks innocently, and she gives him an amused stare.

“You’re going to be a _horrible_ father if that moment is something I can base your parenting off of,” she says, and Dan scoffs at the statement.

“Accusations, accusations,” he sings, “You say one kinky thing to your unborn children and all of the sudden you’re getting a divorce at two a.m.”

She gives him a slow kiss, “You don’t even like it when I say jokingly mean stuff to you; you just cry,” she points out, and Dan pouts at her. “What? Don’t like it when I’m mean?” She teases, and Dan sticks his tongue out in response. “Mature, Howell.”

“Oh yea? You’re a Howell, too, bitch,” he points out.

“The worst decision I ever made was standing at that alter and saying ‘I do,’” she says jokingly, but it hurts a bit. She can see it in his gaze dropping a bit before returning to hers, and she pats his back. “Hey, I’m sorry, baby. You know that wasn’t true. That was the third best day of my life.”

“What were the other two?” He asks.

“Finding out that I was pregnant with two princesses,” he wants to correct her, but he’s too in love to say anything, “and the day you got down on one knee and asked me to marry you.”

He leans in and gives her a slow kiss on the lips, before remembering that there are other people in the car with them. He pulls away and clears his throat, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she says, cuddling into his side. He grasps for Phil’s hand blindly in the dark, and when he finds it, he gives it a squeeze.

“Philly,” he murmurs, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Dan,” He gazes at Isabella. “I love you, Isabella.”

“I love you, too,” She whispers back, as if they're all telling secrets to each other. She whispers in Dan’s ear, “Do you know how fucking good it’s been to not have a period? I should forget my pill more often.” Dan laughs and gives her a kiss.

“We usually are safe,” He argues.

“ _We usually are safe_ ,” She mocks. “Get a hold of yourself, no we aren’t.”

He gives her a kiss to her hair and thinks about the future. He vaguely wonders what their lives would’ve been like if he had run away with her and gotten eloped in Menia or something. They probably would’ve already had kids—they’d been putting it off due to the stress of everything. He wonders what their twins will looks like—if they’ll have her waves or his bunchy curls, if they’ll have green eyes that sparkle or brown eyes that turn golden in the sun. He wonders if they’ll adopt her confidence or his anxieties. Maybe they’ll gain their birth-parents looks, but Phil’s personality. Perhaps they’ll be clumsy and awkward, yet somehow still _charming_. He wouldn’t be opposed to that; Phil’s personality is the best personality, in Dan’s opinion.

He wonders if they’ll hate their parents for bringing them into such a horrible job.

Dan resented his father and mother for most of his childhood. They’d forced him to take up a job that he didn’t want and live a life he didn’t want to live. He’d resented his father most of all because he wasn’t allowed to be a kid when his brother was. When he was fifteen and learning about economics, his brother had been _happy_. When he’d gotten married at eighteen his brother was able to eat a lollipop and play with their old dog.

He wishes, internally, that he could erase all of the power that the monarchy holds and replace it with a parliament or advisory. But that would take years, _decades_ , of work to build and he is only one ruler.

By the time he’s properly deep in his sulking and thinking, they’ve pulled up to a cabin. Two stories of wooden logs and nine guards (Dan counted, there was _nine_ ) standing at attention around the perimeter of the cabin. There are woods surrounding them, every angle is another tree, and Dan shivers with anxiety.

He’s always hated the woods—trees are the worst things ever, in his opinion. Perhaps he’s just over exaggerating due to his fear of the _Blair Witch Project_ , but he thinks it’s justified. Now that the sun has begun to peek through the trees, though, his anxieties have eased off a bit. At least he’ll be able to _see_ what’s around him.

They exit the car, and a guard standing by the door opens it and ushers them inside. It seems a bit silly to Dan, that they have to go through all these extra precautions, but he doesn’t argue. There isn’t another heir to the throne if he and Isabella pass, and he isn’t quite sure what would happen to Etithoia after that.

Technically, his mother would take over, but he thinks about her taking over for him and shivers a bit. His mother has had a hard life, the last thing he would want is for her to suffer in terms of her job.

Martyn and Cornelia are on a couch in the lounge, sipping coffee out of mugs. The scent is strong enough to bring Dan back to his senses, and he looks at the guard who opened the door for them. “My mother,” he chokes out, “What about her? Is she okay?” The guard nods.

“Her car is set to arrive within ten minutes. She got out later than you, but she’s perfectly fine. The only issue is that she’s had a bit of an asthma attack, nothing too severe.”

Dan sits by the door, patiently, like a lost puppy. Since his father and younger brother passed, he’s really only had his mother.

He’s a bit startled, but grateful, when Martyn takes a seat beside him and offers him coffee. “So,” he begins, “How’s the mother-to-be?”

“She’s been good,” Dan says softly, still keeping his eyes trained on the door. He allows his voice to drop to a whisper, “We’re having twins.”

“Congrats!” Martyn pats his back in a friendly manner. “Have you settled on a date for the wedding?”

Dan shakes his head. “Not quite yet,” he murmurs. “Been busy with stuff.”

“Top secret stuff?” Martyn asks, and Dan nods humorously.

“Top secret stuff. We’ve got aliens in our dungeons,” he says, straight-faced, and Martyn lets out a hearty laugh. “Turned the tables on ‘em. Now we’re the ones probing those bitches.”

“You’re funny, you know that, Howell?” Martyn leans back on his hands.

“So I’ve been told,” he responds.

“By who?”

“Your mum,” he fires back, breaking eye contact with the door to give Martyn a look. He chews on his inner lip, “Sorry, Martyn, I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine, Daniel. Mum would’ve loved you, she would’ve been happy to have you be a part of the family,” Martyn assures him. Dan takes a sip of the coffee. It’s lukewarm and bitter, but he feels the caffeine moving through him and allows himself to be a bit more alert. “You’ve had a busy day.”

“I have,” Dan comments. “Why does it feel like…”

“Like what?”

“Like something’s building. Like we’re moving inevitably towards something _bigger_ than all of us?” Dan asks.

Martyn shrugs. “It feels like that, doesn’t it? As if we’re just… counting down the days until all of these odd events make sense.”

“The fire, the man in Phil’s room, the guards that are going missing…” He mutters. “It all feels connected somehow, and I hate to be a conspiracy theorist but—”

The door swings open, and Daniel’s mother walks in with her head held high. She’s got bags, massive bags, underneath her eyes and her lips are downward. But, when she sees Dan, her demeanor changes. “Daniel!” She exclaims, pulling him into a hug. “Is Isabella safe? Are the babies okay?” He nods against her shoulder.

“Everyone’s fine, mum. We’re fine.” She gives him a kiss on his forehead, as if he was still a small child, and moves on to shaking Martyn’s hand and pulling him into a hug.

“We’re all family, Martyn.” She tells him, and he smiles at her. “Now, I am tired. That stupid fire took too much out of me, fucking morons, I’ll be upstairs in a vacant bedroom.”

She doesn’t even say goodbye, just waltzes up the steps. Dan scratches his ear, “I should probably go check on Isabella and make sure she’s doing okay.” Dan says, standing up.

“Of course, I can’t imagine the stress both of you must be under right now.” Martyn says, “Philip isn’t under the same stress, too, is he?”

“No,” Dan says, “God, no. I don’t-we don’t want him to feel as if he has to do anything. He doesn’t have to accept any responsibility except for the babies.”

“Good, good.” Martyn breathes. “Goodnight, then, Daniel.”

“Goodnight, Martyn.” Dan hikes up the steps and enters a room with an open door.

Isabella and Phil are both sound asleep, wrapped up in each other and snoring lightly. Phil has his hand thrown over Izzy’s belly as if he’s going to protect her.

He strips down to his pants and crawls into bed with them, even though his clock says that it’s seven a.m.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> srry for the "wait" mates   
> warning- smut, pregnancy, swearing, violence, kidnapping, mentions of fire

Eighteenth of January

Secondary Location, Intora

When Isabella wakes up in a bed that certainly isn’t hers, she screams. Neither Dan or Phil are near her.

The sound echoes through the building and the door bursts open with Dan and Phil, wide-eyed and a breathing heavily. “Are you okay?” Phil asks, hurriedly. “What happened?”

She buries her face in the duvet, hiding from the men watching her intensely. “I—” She groans, “Forgot about last night, didn’t know where we were. I got scared,” she says, finally showing her face to the boys.

“It’s okay,” Phil combs through her hair with his fingers, “You gave us all a fright downstairs, though.”

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly and gives him a kiss. “Forgive me?”

“If I must,” he sighs, exaggeratedly. “You can go back to sleep if you want.”

She nods and attempts to pull him down with her but he pushes her away with a knowing smirk. “You watch those hands, Izzy. There are other people around,” Phil scolds playfully, and Isabella blushes.

“I’ll go back to bed,” she yawns and rolls over in the bed. It isn’t as comfortable as their bed but she supposes it isn’t meant for fornicating comfortably.

Dan and Phil both give her kisses before walking back downstairs, hand-in-hand. When they arrive downstairs, everyone’s conversations have stopped in a tense silence. “She’s okay, just got… spooked,” Dan looks sheepish and he rubs the back of his neck anxiously.

“Glad she’s okay, dear,” his mother says and passes him a plate of eggs and fruit.

“Who made breakfast?” He asks, taking the fork and feeding Phil a bite. Phil took a bit of the eggs before declaring them good with two thumbs up.

“They managed to get a chef and cleaning maid for us,” Cornelia says. “We didn’t have to leave in such a hurry like you guys did, so we were able to take things with us, ” Dan doesn’t comment on the fact that she just called a chef a  _ thing _ but he brushes it off. She was a commoner before she was royalty, she probably just didn’t realize the connotations of what she had said.

“That’s fun,” Dan says flatly as he takes another bite of the eggs. Phil looks at him expectantly, “What?” He says through a mouthful of food.

“Should I starve?” He asks dramatically and Dan rolls his eyes as he grabs a forkful of eggs to feed to Phil.

“Happy?” Dan asks sarcastically and Phil nods. “Good, because now you get to use your legs and find a plate of your own.”

“Or I could just get a fork,” he threatens, and Dan points his fork at Phil.

“I love you, but I will castrate you if you take another bite of my eggs,” he grunts out.

Phil surrenders and heads towards the kitchen area to retrieve a plate of his own. Phil comes back with a plate of French toast and powdered sugar. They eat in silence, fingers interlocked underneath the dining table, until Martyn speaks up, “Have you received any updates?”

Dan shakes his head. “Phone’s dead,” he says, “Didn’t bring my charger. Izzy’s phone is probably dead, too, but I haven’t checked. I don’t have my laptop, either. The only way I’ll get updates is if someone visits us.”

Martyn speaks, “You can use my phone; I don’t have your advisors numbers saved.”

Dan shakes his head, “I have a shit memory. I’ll see if one of the guards knows anyway to contact them. Thanks though, mate.”

“No problem. Let me know if you need anything, a’right, mate?”

“Sure, pal,” Dan says, turning his attention back to his breakfast. Phil squeezes his hand a bit under the table and their eyes meet. Phil gives him a small smile before leaning in a pressing a kiss to Dan’s forehead, causing Dan to go red.

“I’m too blind,” Phil murmurs softly and Dan laughs.

“Cause you didn’t wear your glasses, old man,” Dan presses a kiss to the corner of Phil’s mouth, forgetting momentarily that Phil’s older brother and father are across the table. “I’ll go get them, you stay here.” He whispers and stands from the table.

Izzy’s on her side, hand on her stomach, snoring lightly. Dan leans in to kiss her temple, causing her to stir slightly but she goes back to her peaceful slumber quickly. He grabs Phil’s glasses off of the nightstand and jogs back down the steps to the dining area.

Julia must’ve woken up because she’s at the table with Phil and Phil’s father—Nigel, Dan reminds himself—and places the glasses upside down on Phil’s nose.

Phil scowls at him playfully and takes the glasses off of him. He positions them right-side-up and gives Dan a goofy smile.

God, what Dan would do to keep that smile on his face forever.

He takes a spot next to Phil and listens to him ramble on about names he has and plans he has for their future. Dan doesn’t say much, he doesn’t have to, Phil talks enough. Instead, he cuddles into Phil’s side and listens to his heartbeat.

It’s steady and comforting, providing Dan with warmth and life. He’s sure his daddy issues play into how much he’s come to rely on Phil’s affection, but he doesn’t want to think about that right now. Instead, he listens to Phil babbling on about how they’re having twins to the beat of his heartbeat.

When Phil shifts his arm slightly, Dan ends up falling into his side and resting his head on Phil’s thigh. He tangles his fingers into Dan’s hair and continues talking, “I really like the name Laura Anne Howell,” he mentions off guard.

“Howell?” His father asks and Phil furrow his eyebrows.

“Well, the babies aren’t  _ Lesters _ ,” he points out. “Besides, I’ll be a Howell sooner than later.”

Julia smiles brightly, “It’s a beautiful name Phil,” she comments. “If you have any of your own children with Isabella, wouldn’t they take your name, though?” She asks.

“We’re  _ not  _ having anymore kids.” Dan mumbles from his place on Phil’s thigh and Phil shrugs.

“I don’t see why we would, I mean, I’m going to change my name to Howell,” he points out and his father nods.

“Philip Michael Howell,” Nigel muses. “It’s a strong name. I like it, sounds good on you.”

“Well, actually, I’m planning on keeping Lester. I want my name to be Philip Lester Howell,” he explains and both Julia and his father give him comforting smiles.

“That’s a good name. Now, tell me more about these names?” His father asks.

“Oh!” He’s a bit surprised at his father’s eagerness to hear him ramble about names, but he supposes that these  _ are  _ his grandchildren. “Dan wants to name one of the babies Jordan.”

“You’re fucking right I do,” Dan says, “I don’t care if it’s middle name or first name or what, I  _ love  _ the name Jordan.”

“Yeah, but Jordan Isabella Howell is sort of ugly,” Phil points out.

“Listen, I love my wife, but it’s no worse than Isabella Johanne Howell. If anything, it’s better.” 

“Izzy would kill you,” Phil says.

“Please, I’m well aware.”

It’s nine p.m., Dan’s well aware that no one is asleep but that doesn’t stop him from kissing down Phil’s neck. They’re both shirtless and Dan’s aware of Phil’s erection. Phil rolls their hips together and Dan moans into Phil’s neck.

Isabella is downstairs with everyone else, and anyone with half of a brain knows what Dan and Phil are doing in their claimed bedroom. It doesn’t even have a  _ lock _ , for Christ’s sake. Anyone could just walk in while Phil’s cock is in Dan’s mouth.

But that really just urges Dan to sink to his knees in front of Phil and begin working his trousers half way down his thighs. He’s too impatient to even dream of getting Phil completely naked, and besides, it’s easier to cover if someone does come in unannounced.

He pulls Phil’s half-hard cock out of his pants and gives the tip a kitten lick, feeling it harden underneath his palm. He, quite literally, has Phil in the palm of his hand, and he always liked the power that it gave him.

He feels Phil’s fingers combing through his hair, urging him closer to the head of his cock but instead, he tilts his head up to look at Phil as he licks the underside of Phil’s member.

By this point, Phil’s dick is at full attention and Dan decides to take the tip of Phil’s dick into his mouth and lick the tip. Hands—Phil’s hands—push him further onto Phil’s cock until his nose is buried in the curly hairs at the base.

Phil doesn’t break eye contact as Dan constricts his throat to swallow around Phil, but he lets out a low guttural sound from the back of his throat. Dan feels a bit of pride at that, knowing that he could make Phil fall apart with just the flick of his tongue.

While working his tongue along the underside of Phil’s cock, Dan’s hand finds itself home in the waistband of his pants. He’s palming himself, too caught up in making Phil feel good to properly pull himself out and get off.

(He also doesn’t want to stain the white carpeting, and he  _ definitely  _ doesn’t want to explain the stain to a cleaning lady.)

“Want to fuck your mouth,” Phil grunts, pulling Dan’s head off of him so that he can respond.

“Do it,” Dan urges, sinking down on Phil’s dick and relaxing his throat.

“Tap twice if you need to stop,” Phil reminds him; Dan hums in response.

Phil doesn’t waste any time in getting to the point; he grabs Dan’s hair with both hands and begins pumping his cock down Dan’s throat.

It isn’t until Phil groans out, “Fuck, gonna cum,” that Dan pulls off of his cock again to look him in the eye.

“On my face,” He grunts, “Please.”

And who is Phil to deny such a polite request?

So, he obliges, leaning down to kiss Dan on the lips and pull Dan’s pants down so that he can finish him off.

Dan pulls Phil up to him, planting a kiss on his lips. They lay there, on the floor, until Isabella comes upstairs and forces them both into the shower.

Sleepily, they roll into bed, cuddling into each other. Isabella has taken her designated place in between the boys, and both the boys cooed over how large her stomach has gotten. They gave her belly kisses and spoke in hushed voices about how they couldn’t wait to meet the little one’s that were inside.

Isabella felt loved in that moment, with Dan and Phil feeling like a safety blanket of warmth and joy to protect her and her family.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmm sorry for the wait  
> i got accepted into my dream school though so haha  
> warnings: death, murder, pregnancy, war, illness  
> this chapter is pretty heavy compared to others its not super heavy but be cautious ok kids?  
> and no i cant fix whatever the FUCK the first sentence is doing

# Twenty-fourth of January

Steeple Palace, Kings

 

Finally, they’re allowed to go back to the palace on Tuesday. Apparently, the incident has called for a severe vetting of all the palace staff, and four members have been fired.

Winston Davidson is among them.

Dan isn’t surprised, but he still feels a bit of hurt. Apparently, the man, along with three others, had held meetings in order to plan Daniel’s impeachment. There was evidence in emails, private letters sent among staff, and _voice recordings_. He felt a little broken—the other three he had hardly known about.

One of them was named Anastasia Boldwin—she was a fifteen-year-old from Laketown but moved to Kings with her mother. When the palace offered her a job, she’d only accepted in the hopes that she would be able to harm the Prince.

James Useffi, a Menian farmer that moved to Kings when he was thirty-six. He’d applied to a palace position out of desperation, but ended up despising Daniel, and was willing to kill to get revenge on who he claimed, “killed the true King.”

Tristan Ingrid—sentenced to death for starting the fires. Dan wanted _so badly_ to somehow allow them off the hook, to show that he wasn’t out for blood the same way they were, but he couldn’t. Attempted murder would get a person life in prison. Attempted murder on a royal was a sentence to the most miserable death ever.

Tristan, in their statement, had claimed that Winston had told them they would be _safe_ if they did it. Apparently, they suffered from severe bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorder. According to them, Winston had promised refuge from the “monsters” if they lit the fires.

They believed him.

Dan had chatted with them through the bullet-proof glass of the holding cell. He’d talked to them about mental health, about their past, about everything. They were born James Evan Robertson to Emily Michelle Robertson and James Frank Robertson.

Both of their parents passed away in a fire.

They’d felt like fire kept their hallucinations away, and when Winston had convinced them to keep the monsters away by destroying the building, they hadn’t meant for the fires to spread.

“Honest!” They’d cried, “I was trying to keep the faces away, the always get so _fucking close to me_ ,” They’d practically screamed, scratching at their head.

Dan winced at that, he’d had moderate hallucinations when he’d first started ruling. He was under the stress of his father’s and bother’s deaths, he was newly wed without even a honeymoon for a break, and he had been running on no sleep.

He’d began to imagine knocks on door that weren’t there, people talking when they weren’t, but eventually Isabella convinced him to go to bed. Things were okay after he’d slept—the knocks and voices dissipated completely.

He couldn’t imagine what Tristan was feeling.

“We’re going to try and get you out of this, okay?” He’d assured them. “I could pardon you I could—” But he’d stopped there. How would it look for him to forgive his _murderer_? The people would view him as weaker than he already was.

A knock at his bedroom door brought him back to reality. It was a man in a suit much too large for him. He had pin-straight brown hair and blue eyes; he was the kind of boy Dan would’ve hooked up with as a teenager.

“I-I’m Luke Carol.” He held out his hand, before looking down and bowing gracelessly. “I, um, Your Highness, I’m the attorney for Mr. Robertson.”

“Mx. Robertson.” He corrected the stubby man.

“I’m s-sorry, what, sir?”

“They’re pronouns are ‘they’. They go by ‘Mx.’” Dan corrected, and nodded at the notepad. “Write that down. While you’re at it, write down that the Prince is finding a way to pardon them.”

“W-well, see, our case is b-being b-based in insanity, so—”

“So, what?”

The stubby man lowers his voice, “Transgendered people are technically mentally ill.”

“For a lawyer, you really suck at appeasing people,” The Prince points out. “I want them free of all charges and placed with a therapist that can help them. Did you know that they’re only twenty-one? I was their age when I was given the task of ruling a country. They’re going through some shit right now.”

“The suspect refuses to speak, sir.”

“Well they spoke to me just fine.”

The stubby man looks at a loss for words and fumbles with his pen. “O-of course, sir, I didn’t mean t-to—”

“Can it, peewee,” He says, and cringes at his choice of words. “God, I’m turning into my wife.”

This earns a laugh from the stubby man, “Your wife must be a handful. Women are hard but pregnant women—”

Dan’s shocked. This man _actually_ just insulted his best friend. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” He demands.

“L-:Luke C—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dan growls back. “I love my wife, thank you very much. She’s the best, and I’m glad that I married her. The fact that you’d assume that I dislike her or that she’s a burden is disrespectful. She’s your _princess_ , for fuck’s sake. Get out of my chambers.”

The man scrambles to his senses and hurries out the door before Dan can say another word.

He _really_ wishes Isabella were there to see that, because holy fuck, it’s so funny watching sexist people scramble in the face of authority.

 

Dan finds himself at the holding cell again, allowing Tristan’s words to wrap around him and paint their world. With each story that they tell, he becomes more certain that they can’t be sentenced to the chair.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Tristan?”

“When… when I die,” They start, and keeps talking even when Dan tries to interrupt to remind them that they _won’t die on his watch_ , “Will… will you promise me that you’ll make it better for people like us? For the people that struggle with the things that aren’t real?”

Dan cries at that, he full-on ugly sobs in the middle of the talking-space. “God, yes. Of course I will. You-you don’t worry a bit though, okay? I’m going to do something.”

“You can’t d-do anything without pardoning me.” Dan’s aware that Tristan is crying too, softly into the phone that he’s being forced to talk to them through.

“Then I fucking will,” He says through shaky breaths. “Let them say what they want about me, I won’t let an innocent person die. Winston should be sentenced.”

 

He crawls into bed with Phil and Izzy that night, tired and sick and _exhausted_. His bones ache, his muscles are tight, and he just wants to sleep. He can’t save an innocent man without being seen as an incompetent ruler, and he can’t kill an innocent man without hating himself forever.

He’ll hate himself more than he already does if he cocks this up.

Izzy tries to wrap her arms around his waist and convince him to come to bed. She tries every trick that she knows to get Daniel Howell to go the _fuck to sleep_. She offers him more time to work in the morning, she offers him all forms of sex, she even offers him the middle of the bed (prime cuddling real estate). Dan doesn’t accept any of it, instead choosing to keep typing useless shit into his laptops search bar.

He falls asleep on his desk.

 

Phil can’t go to sleep.

He could but really, he doesn’t want to feel as if he’s abandoned Dan.

The kid that started the fire has had a hard life. Dan told him the story as soon as he’d heard it, and Phil had cried. He _knows_ what it’s like to lose a parent to something so horrible—to have your support ripped out from underneath him.

He was six when his mother passed but he _remembers_ the way that his brother screamed and cried, he remembers not leaving his room, and he remembers the country’s mourning period of all black and false tears. They never knew her; they never knew how she would wrap him up in warm hugs after nightmares or how she taught him everything he’s ever known. They lied and acted as if her death affected them but it _didn’t_. The worst thing, though, was his father. A man once known for his joyful attitude had fallen into such a heavy depression to the point where Phil was afraid of losing his father, too.

So, no, he hasn’t visited Tristan yet. He’s afraid of the trauma that he’s repressed. He’s afraid of the moment it will bubble and scold at the surface of his brain until his head pops off and he ends up Tristan.

Tristan is just alone and afraid. Phil doesn’t want to be alone and afraid.

He rolls over in their bed a couple of times, pulling Izzy closer and pushing her away. He’s lucky she’s a heavy sleeper, he’s sure his movements would’ve woken her up by now if she wasn’t.

Dan’s head is slumped over his desk, a PDF of a document open on his laptop. Phil reads a couple of lines and groans in frustration, because the line that he chooses to read is _sickening_.

“ _In a case of attempted or successful murder of an Etithoian royal, the perpetrator is unable to plead insanity due to the severity of the crime_. _The victim and perpetrator must show the court that the crime was accidental, and the victim will then choose the verdict._ ”

He knows the crime wasn’t truly an attack on them; he’s heard the story of how Winston tricked him.

He also knows that unless more than one person speaks about this on trial, Tristan will be killed.

He writes down, “ _Trick Winston into admitting what he’s done and manage to get the others to admit it_ ” on a scrap piece of paper before he slumps into their bed and curls around Izzy.

“Goodnight,” He whispers, pressing a kiss to her hair.

 

Dan isn’t anywhere to be found in the morning, and with a sinking feeling, Phil knows where he is.

He’s in the holding cells talking to Winston.

He wants to throw up—even if Winston didn’t kill them, he could’ve. He would’ve, Phil has no doubt, if he could cover it up. He wants nothing more than to sentence that man to hang, like a symbol to others who attempt the same, “ _The Prince of Etithoia means harm_.”

But he knows, somewhere inside, that he couldn’t kill a man. He’s here, Dan’s here, to make Etithoia a kinder country. Hanging the body of an unsuccessful murderer outside your house isn’t the best way to invite guests.

He brushes his teeth as quickly as he can and shrugs on a new outfit for the day.

The stairs are cold against his bare feet, but he continues down the flight until he reaches the cell area.

Sure enough, Dan’s there, talking to Winston on a red telephone while a guard watches him with narrowed eyes.

“Fucking admit it then, coward,” Dan growls into the phone, and Phil stops in his tracks. The way that Dan speaks isn’t how he normally speaks. He’s livid, his lower lip is quivering and as Phil looks closer, he can see the clear tear marks down his cheeks. “You wanted to kill me, admit it. Admit that you set Tristan up, fucking admit it.”

There’s a pause, and Dan takes a shaking breath, “I hope you hang, I hope you hang for years and years. I want you to be outside as a warning to other manipulative twats like you.”

Phil gets close enough that he can reach out and touch the back of Dan’s head, and Dan jumps at the contact before settling into the soothing fingers tangling in his hair.

“I didn’t want to kill you, Daniel.” The voice—Winston—says tauntingly. “There’s something, or _someone_ , so much more valuable.”

“Who, you son-of-a-bitch?”

“Isabella, of course,” He can hear Winston’s hideous grin through the phone, “Of course, you wouldn’t remarry after her. You’d allow yourself to suffer. We’ve all seen it, Daniel. You’re blinded by your love for her and that Philip. Should her and the baby pass, the throne will never have a proper successor. And do you know who the throne goes to after that?”

“The Prince’s first advisor.”

“Ding, ding, ding,” The voice taunts.

Phil’s had enough, he slams the power button on the phone and looks at a tear-streaked Dan. “Why the hell?” Dan asks.

“You can’t torture yourself like this,” Phil sobs out, “You can’t keep reminding yourself how evil that man is.”

He pauses.

“Winston told me things,” He says softly, “Told me things that happened in Intora. Claims it’s all connected, that it’s part of some massive uprising.”

Phil sits down next to him.

“There’s… there’s a group,” He starts slowly, “They want a war.”

“Between who?”

“Everyone. They want it to be the unifying war, and that the winning country will be the leaders of this new unified country. They-they’re attacking Intora and us right now. Those guards? They didn’t get kidnapped, they switched teams. They don’t play for our side anymore, Phil. The maid? She knew too much when she wasn’t going to play the game.”

“The man in my room?”

“I don’t know.” Dan says, “Winston—he mentioned something about the leaders of it all. They… they convince people to do anything with their words.”

“How does tie in with—”

“What if he’s trying to drive your guards to join their side? What if he doesn’t want physical harm, just wants to keep taking men from your side?”

“I..”

“I don’t know, Phil.”

“Why would he tell you this?”

Dan shrugs. “I don’t care, I’m sentencing him.”

“Y-you’re really going to?” Phil stammers out.

“Why the fuck shouldn’t I?”

Phil doesn’t have a good answer, so he just nods and swallows the lump in his throat.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: mentions of smut, death, pregnancy, swearing

Thirtieth of January

Steeple Palace, Kings

 

It’s two a.m., according to Isabella’s phone, and she’s craving ice cream.

There’s nothing odd about the craving, she hasn’t had odd cravings the whole pregnancy, thankfully, but her stomach is screaming with want for a pint of raspberry ice cream. Izzy wants to plead with whatever God may exist to just _let her sleep_ , but the babies have other ideas.

Dan and Phil had been so excited at her finishing her first trimester of pregnancy without a hitch that they’d gone out for dinner, but Izzy was just repulsed by everything on the menu, so she refrained from eating. Now, she wishes she could’ve just taken a nausea pill and sucked up her moderate discomfort, because her stomach is eating itself in attempt to eat something.

She can’t get out of bed without disrupting either of the boys, so she says, “Fuck it,” and flicks the back of Phil’s head.

“What?” He mumbles sleepily, burying his head in his pillow.

“Want ice cream,” She tells him, and he sits up and gives her a look. “Listen, please? I’m starving.”

He grumbles something about her not eating but complies with her orders, nonetheless. He stretches his limbs and lets out a yawn before setting his glasses on the tip of his nose. “Let’s get you some food, then.”

They stumble, fingers intertwined, down the marble staircase almost drunkenly. Izzy’s leading the way to the kitchens, and when she gets there, it’s pitch black.

Well, not completely, but it’s close, and Izzy has a knack for using hyperboles.

The only light is an emergency light, pale blue and blinking softly in the distance. It’s meant to symbolize an exit in case they need to leave the building, but usually the lights are on by the time the sirens start.

The freezer opens, and Phil jumps back, a bit started at the light of the walk-in cooler. There’s rows and rows of desserts and frozen food lined on the shelves, and Izzy realizes how much food the palace really has access to. _Imagine all of this, most of this that won’t be eaten anyways, going to a unit_ , her inner voice says, and she shrugs the thought off. She _knows_ that Dan is working on the bill, she just needs to calm down.

Izzy retrieves a gallon-sized carton of ice cream, showing it off to Phil. “Look at this! I bet I could eat the whole thing.”

“Like hell,” Phil responds.

She replies by grabbing a spoon from a cutlery cabinet (do they really have a whole cabinet of cutlery? That’s so ridiculous) and digging the spoon into the pint.

“Isabella!” Phil exclaims, a bit too loud, and Izzy winces at the noise.

“Jesus, Phil, shut up. It won’t do any harm to label this as personal food.”

“But—”

She complies with his unspoken demand anyways and retrieves a bowl to eat out of. She’s doing every action with an attitude on purpose to piss Phil off even more than he already is, and it seems to be working. With every chuff and eye roll as she puts the ice cream into the bowl, Phil seems to respond by biting his lip and averting his gaze.

Tell tale signs that Phil is getting angry, of course.

She closes the container and shoves it towards him, “Baby, put this away.”

He grunts, “A please would be nice.”

“ _Please_ , baby, put this away,” she says it with such sugary-sweetness, but it’s obvious she’s faking it. She isn’t quite sure why it’s so entertaining to rile Phil up so badly, but then it hits her.

Oh.

_Oh._

Phil’s _hot_ when he’s angry.

When he puts the bucket of ice cream away, he sort of shoves it into the fridge out of frustration. It’s not violent, it’s just sort of frustrated. He’s frowning a bit, and he’s biting his lip. He’s in his pants and a night shirt, and really, that’s even cuter.

Dan’s nightshirts fall below his pants, so it’s mostly modest, but _Phil_.

Phil’s pants leave little up to the imagination.

She shakes herself out of her funk and digs into the bowl of ice cream eagerly, forcing her thoughts to wander a bit. She thinks about life, her family, her brothers.

She thinks about Dan’s brother.

He was so full of _life_ , that was the only way to describe him. But…

But he wasn’t anymore.

Dan still wasn’t over his brother’s passing. His eyes watered whenever he mentioned him or their father, lip quivering only slightly before he would regain composure and look like the true Prince of Etithoia.

The true Prince of Etithoia. Dan was truly beginning to play the part of the ruler who took no shit from his people. He would sentence a man, officially, to death tomorrow and stall the sentence of Tristan.

 _People take advantage of you_ , she had once told him, but he hadn’t listened at the time. He still doesn’t listen, but, perhaps, he’s proving that they can’t take advantage of him any longer. Perhaps he’s rebelling against his own people, fighting the fire of his people with his own fire. The sentencing will ring out like a bell, clear as day, to the people: _those who do harm will have harm done to them._

Maybe it was what Etithoia needed to be a better country. Maybe, just maybe, one man’s life could be taken in order to prove to the people that the Prince was here to make change across the land.

Isabella hoped that this would be a cornerstone in the change they’d been attempting to instigate.

 

It’s six in the morning, and it’s pitch black outside. Dan has his arm thrown over Isabella stomach, his fingers interlaced with Phil’s on Isabella other side. Neither Phil or Isabella are awake, but Dan is. There’s almost a serene loneliness that comes with it—he feels like an outsider of his own life for a second. It’s odd, but _good_ ; the feeling of Izzy’s heart beating softly and her rhythmic breathing bring life to the otherwise dead room.

Phil tugs on his hand and mumbles something into his pillow, pulling Dan from his internal monologue and back into slumber.

It’s peaceful; they’re at peace.

 

“Sir, there’s an update on the Tristan case,” a young girl announces as the trio are eating breakfast.

Well, Izzy and Phil are eating breakfast. Dan is too busy stressing over a book he’s retrieved from his study, highlighting random lines and phrases. “You have an update?” He asks, excitedly. She nods.

“The phone call with Mr. Davidson was logged,” she displays a page of their logged conversation to the Prince, “Mr. Davidson does _not_ need to be considered a witness, this statement is to be considered factual as it is a testimony from a perpetrator, and he _did_ in fact plead guilty; therefor, the subject may be sentenced with no repercussions. The palace psychologist would like to complete an evaluation of Mx. Tristan if the Prince allows.”

“Of course! This is amazing,” Dan exclaims. “This case might finally be coming together.”

Then, she says, “There’s also been an update of the rebellion.”

Dan’s glee drops completely.

“Intora has lost nine guards, an official notice has been sent out by the King of Intora that these disappearances are of men switching to fight the kingdoms. There’s… mail, sir, addressed to you from the rebellion.”

Dan leaps up at that, snatching the letters in her hand and tearing them open.

_Daniel,_

_You slick boy, do you think you’ve got this all figured out? Do you think it ends with that bitch wife of yours getting beheaded? No. We continue with you, your mother._

_Where’s Philip on this list?_

_We like him. We’ll keep him. Seems like a smart man. You and I both know this union isn’t out of love—the boy will receive a million times the power he once held. Your boy is smart, he knows to take a good opportunity, so I’ll offer this:_

_Give him the crown, all of it._

_Leave._

_Bring the bitch with you and we might spare her._

_You’re mother stays._

_Love,_

_Astor Noellyn_

“Who the fuck is Astor?”

“W-we don’t know, sir—”

“Well, figure it the fuck out.” He snaps at her. He pushes the letters towards her. “Have Taylor log this in the system, we need this to be monitored on all fronts.”

She nods, bows, and scurries away.

He wants to throw up—the entirety of the letter feels like a nightmare. His whole _life_ feels like a fucking nightmare; is he not allowed to be happy with his family for a _second_?

Izzy pats his back, smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt while Phil whispers encouraging things. It doesn’t help, but Dan wants to believe that it will. He wants to believe that Phil and Isabella truly can make the rest of their fucked lives disappear, even if only for a minute.

It isn’t until he tastes salt on his bottom lip that he realizes he is crying.

Fuck, he’s _crying_.

He can’t stop; the tears keep pouring down silently and his back shakes as he begins to properly sob into Phil’s arms. Isabella continues her soothing motions, attempting to ease his anguish by combing through his thick curls.

Eventually, Dan’s body stops rocking with each sob, his legs aren’t as shaky, and his eyes begin to run out of tears. He tells himself _it’s fine_ , and that things are going to be okay, but he knows he’s lying to himself.

 

Tristan isn’t in the holding cell.

They aren’t anywhere, for that matter. It’s as if they disappeared from the palace, not a single trace of them was left.

Taylor is gone too.

The letter is gone.

Dan is panicking, because it’s ten at night and he should be asleep with his family but _no_ he’s figuring out what the fuck is going on. He knows he should breathe, he _knows_ that when the anxiety comes on he won’t be able to stop it, but he keeps combing through security footage hoping to catch a glimpse of where Tristan or Taylor went.

Nothing shows up.

The tape is suspiciously skipped for two hours, though, on all security cameras.

He phones a guard, and a voice answers, “Your Highness?”

“Can we track skipped security footage? Who has the ability to skip footage?” He demands in one breath.

The guard hesitates, “Sir, perhaps you should sleep.”

“Sleep isn’t going to happen. There needs to be a full investigation on the people who have access to the footage.”

When he asks about Winston, the guard simply gives him a time.

“I’m sorry?”

The guard repeats the time.

There’s a couple beats of silence. “The time of death, sir.”

Dan’s mouth is dry—he knows that Winston would die today but he didn’t process it fully. Now, Winston’s dead, truly dead.

And it’s his fault.

Maybe everyone’s right. Sleep wouldn’t do any harm.

 

In the morning, no updates are found. Logan wants to send Dan and his family to a secondary location, but Dan begs him not to.

“We’re safe here, for now. Winston _knew_ the secondary location; how do we know who else knows it?”

Oh fuck.

Anyone might know where the cabin is.

Phil’s _family_ is in the cabin.

“Logan, put me on the phone with King Nigel.”

Logan complies, handing Dan the phone. “ _Hello? Daniel? What’s wrong?”_

“Get the fuck out of the cabin.”

“ _What happened?”_ King Nigel is smart to comply before asking questions. Dan can already hear him shuffling and doors opening and a faint yell of, _“Call a car, get us to another location immediately and discretely.”_

“Winston knew where you were. Taylor and Tristan are gone. They could be—”

“ _Looking for us,_ ” Nigel finishes with a tired voice. “ _Daniel, don’t blame yourself—”_

“I should’ve killed that bitch before he could do anything with the information he knew. I’m so sorry,” his voice breaks into a sob.

“ _Daniel, it’s fine. Worry about the babies, okay? Keep my son safe, and that wife of yours, too. She’s got my grandbabies._ ” Dan can hear a sad smile over the line, and they say their goodbyes solemnly. Dan manages a, “Stay safe,” before the line goes dead.

He feels a bit better about the situation now.

 

Astor doesn’t exist, Isabella knows that much. It’s an anagram for a name, probably someone who’s not keen on hiding their identity if all their hiding it with is an anagram.

_Taylor Nelson_

Well, shit.

That would explain it. As soon as Taylor got the note, she didn’t need to hide it anymore. So, she left.

She left with Tristan.

Maybe they were a team, maybe she’d kidnapped them, or maybe they’re not even connected.

Julia’s sat beside her, texting Cornelia about events and relaying that information back to Isabella. “She says that there’s been an influx of deaths,” Julia’s shaking, “Sarah was found dead. Mark was found with his head gone. Danni had their liver torn ou—oh my God, Izzy, I’m going to throw up.”

Izzy feels the same way, but she steels down the nausea in favor of processing the information she’s been given. “Our staff is missing two kitchen maids,” she mutters, “I haven’t told Daniel yet, he’s stressed enough, but a guard’s body was found abandoned with four stab wounds this morning.”

“You don’t think…”

The name hangs in between them, though neither say it out loud.

Phil calls from the door, “Izzy? Are you in there? The doors locked.”

Julia gets up instead, opening the door before climbing back onto the bed.

“That’s a bit invasive that you’re on my bed,” Phil points out, Julia shrugs.

“We were tracking recent events.”

Phil’s movements stiffen, but he manages to recover and slide into the bed with Isabella. He rests his head against her chest and takes a deep breath, “Ah, the events.”

None of them talk, they just keep to themselves. It’s a tense silence—there’s an unspoken anxiety floating through the air, thicker than jelly.

They’re all thinking the same thing: _how long until this all comes to a head_?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: death, muRder, uhhh i think thats it. pregnancy. obviously swearing  
> thats. thats it bye

Fourteenth of February

Steeple Palace, Kings

 

 

It’s quiet.

Unnervingly so.

There’s been no news from Intora—nothing to indicate that they’ve been attacked. In fact, all the updates Daniel and his staff have received are _positive_.

Much too positive.

See, most of Intora takes things at face value. There isn’t much betrayal there—any events that happen are for one motive and not a secret underlying motive.

But Etithoia is commonplace for conniving and scheming. An abruptness of peace isn’t _good_ , it’s the calm before the storm. Anyone who’s ever visited Dan’s country knows that much.

He’s tried to call Martyn or Nigel but they’re blissfully unaware of the consequences for falling into the trap. They truly believe their enemies have backed down. They’re going home tomorrow.

The pit in Dan’s stomach, the feeling of dread and anxiety, has only managed to grow. He _knows_ something’s going to happen, and he doesn’t want it to happen.

But they won’t answer their goddamn phones.

He gets ahold of Phil, though, “ _Dan? What’s up, love?_ ” He sounds concerned, but not too much so. Dan feels bad—they’re both at Izzy’s appointment and he’s not there.

He’s not there to see his unborn children; fuck, he’ll end up like his own father.

“Your dad isn’t answering his phone,” he says through ragged breaths, clutching the phone in his sweaty palm.

“ _Have you tried calling Martyn? Why do you need to call him so badly?_ ”

“The,” he takes a breath out of anxiety, “attacks have stopped,” he manages another breath. “They think—”

“ _Oh my God,_ ” Phil murmurs. “ _They think they’re safe_.”

“But they won’t answer their phones, Phil,” he wails out like a petulant child.

“ _Breathe, baby, okay? I’m calling Cornelia. Don’t worry, okay?_ _I have to go, love. I love you, be safe. We’ll be back soon._ ” Then the line goes dead.

 

Dan receives a text from Cornelia two hours later. He’s cuddled on their bed in between Phil and Isabella, looking at the ultrasound images. He doesn’t quite see where the babies are, but he’s still excited nonetheless. They’re _his_ babies, after all.

From: Cornelia

_The guard stopped us. U were right, totally a trap. Thx_

To: Cornelia

_Np. Be safe, ok? Phil would kill me if anything happened to u_

He sets his phone down and focuses his attention back on the images in his hand. The faint hum of the TV in the background drowns his anxiety out. Phil and Izzy are both obsessed with some sort of American ghost-hunting television show (Dan had asked them how you even hunt something that’s not real, but Izzy and Phil just yelled at him for ruining their fun. They also excluded him from their cuddle-fest, so he’s a bit salty about it).

He rolls over until he’s buried in Isabella’s side, allowing himself to drift in and out of conscientiousness. He’s exhausted; he needs a nap, and anyone is able to see it. So, he dozes off, using his wife as a pillow and listening to Phil’s steady heartbeat.

Phil curls into Dan, too, desperate for some warmth in their cold room. He pulls the blankets up, urging Isabella to cuddle into their pile also. She grumbles out how they have work to do but sets her alarm for two hours regardless. Really, they all need the sleep, and they might as well get it right now.

 

Dan’s a bit bored. He doesn’t have work to do. What time he spent trying to save Tristan was a waste—they’re gone now anyways. They have no leads on their ex-prisoner’s whereabouts regardless, so looking for them is a waste. He doesn’t have any meetings considering he doesn’t have any _advisors to have meetings with_. He wants to just release the bill into the public without his advisors, but that’s a _bad_ idea. He knows it, but he wishes he didn’t.

He just slumps against his desk, hopelessly. They could go out for dinner, but God knows how unsafe that is in this climate. He could invite some of their commoner friends to the palace. It’d be illegal, but it’s not like he hasn’t don’t it before.

He could take another nap.

At one point, he’d been worried that he’d be too caught up in his work to ever take care of the babies. Now, he’s worried that his babies might not create enough work for him. His time is spent waiting, resting, and eating.

They can’t host or attend balls or events—not if they want any semblance of security. Sure, they can spend their days being domestic and talking about baby names, but Isabella already has her mind made up on her names (and Dan quite likes them, as much as he denies it). She likes the names Jordan Isiah Howell and Yuri Wilson Howell for boys and Jasmine Isabella Howell and Laura Anne Howell for girls.

Yuri, Isabella, and Jasmine are typically Menian names whereas Wilson, Laura, and Isiah are all considered Intoran names. Jordan is mostly an Etithoian name, but nowadays all names are really claimed across all lands. Dan had spent hours looking through the history of names to find names originating from all of their countries (Anne is apparently an old Hebrew name, but Dan ignored that because Phil and Izzy really liked that name.)

The babies are confirmed to be identical, so they only had to come up with two sets of names rather than three. Thank God for that, Dan would’ve cried if he had to look through more boring names again. Most of them are all basic, in his opinion (besides Yuri, that’s a fun ass name).

Isabella honestly thinks that they’re having girls, but they’re debating on getting the gender checked. Phil desperately wants to know but Isabella and Dan are content with keeping the surprise. It makes it all the more fun—being able to find things out as soon as they happen and not months in advance.

He relaxes on their bed, yawning. He lets his mind wander to other topics.

He thinks about Phil and Izzy; how beautiful their smiles are. He thinks about how Isabella’s baby bump has grown in these past months; he thinks about how her skin glows now. Isabella waltzes into their room, and he lifts his head barely to see his wife.

“Hello,” she says in a sing-song voice. “How are you?”

“ _Bored_ ,” he groans, dropping his head onto their sheets. “No one’s giving me attention,” he whines. She gives him a pitying look and rolls her eyes.

“Oh, Mr. Howell, how will you _live_ if people are giving you attention?” She dramatically flops on top of him, earning a grunt from Daniel.

“It’s horrible. You’ll never understand my pain,” he throws an arm around her and rolls them over so that his arms are wrapped around her midsection and they’re facing each other. “Perhaps our fiancé will give me love.”

“Unlikely,” she plants a kiss on his forehead. “He’s been raiding the kitchens for food. I think he’s bored, too.”

Dan rolls over and pulls Isabella into his chest. “Want to watch a movie?”

“What movie?”

“I don’t know, maybe _Howl’s Moving Castle_?” He gives her a pleading look and she caves, grabbing the remote off of their nightstand and pressing the buttons until she chooses the movie.

“Happy?” She turns to him, and he gives her an eager nod, curling his body around hers. It’s cold in their room—when is it not—and it’s not like they have any control over the thermostat, so they just wrap themselves in blankets and hot chocolate (vodka, too, but that’s another story).

Dan hold’s Izzy a bit closer and focuses his attention towards the moving pictures on the television. It’s aesthetically pleasing—the kind that makes Dan giddy with want to live an equally aesthetic lifestyle. Unfortunately, he doesn’t own a magical fire-demon nor does he use said fire-demon to transport his magical house.

It seems like it would be fun, though. There’s a fleeting feeling of happiness in his own home and so what if he finds it in Japanese children’s movies?

Besides, “Prince of Etithoia caught watching child movie with a pregnant wife!” isn’t really the worst scandal to reach Etithoian news. Though, they’d probably have a better headline than that.

Within seconds, Dan’s phone is exploding with text messages. He rolls onto his side so that he can reach for his phone in his back pocket, checking the texts.

From: Martyn

_Help_

_Dan??????????_

_????????_

To: Martyn

_whAT?_

From: Martyn

_The girl. That disappeared what was her face like_

To: Martyn

_Brown hair brown eyes sort of looks like cornelia in the face but she has a narrower nose and bigger eyes??? If that makes sense._

_Why lmao_

From: Martyn

_Holllyyyyyyyyyyyyyy shiiiiiitttttttttttttttttttttt_

Dan furrows his eyebrows in frustration.

From: Martyn

_So. Could u maybe come to intora to identify two bodies_

Dan pauses the movie and calls Martyn immediately. “What?” He demands, as soon as he hears Martyn pick up.

“ _There’s been two bodies found_ ,” Martyn sounds breathless and anxious; his voice cracks and shakes on every word. “ _I—we think it’s Taylor and Tristan_.”

“Holy fuck,” he stammers. “You’re serious? It isn’t s-safe for me to leave and I’m not leaving Phil or Izzy.”

“ _Emails aren’t safe, someone can gain access easily._ ”

“Nothing’s safe, there’s a group dedicated to us going at each other’s throats, Martyn.”

“ _I suppose. Things were easier before this happened_.”

Martyn sounds resigned, like he’s been put under too much stress. Dan relates, honestly. At eighteen he married the love of his life, and then immediately had any stability ripped out from underneath his feet. He supposed when they figured out about the pregnancy things would turn around, but truly, they’ve only gotten worse with the announcement.

He sighs, “Things were easier, at one point.”

“ _They’re not anymore_.”

With that, they say their goodbyes and Dan receives a picture.

It’s gruesome; the girl’s intestines have been spilled onto the grass outside of the river, her leg has been blunted smashed until the bone is showing with gnarly tendrils of blood. Dan assumes it was probably the large blood-splattered spade laying next to her.

The other person is laying on their back, their mouth agape and his teeth missing and broken. A stub of a tongue is lolling out, one of their eyes has been popped out, and their fingernails are missing. It’s obvious though that it’s Tristan, but the issue arises: Tristan’s main identifying characteristic, medically speaking, are missing, yet Taylor simply looks to have been murdered. Tristan’s eye’s (or at least one) have been removed, his teeth have been ruined, and his fingerprints and fingernails are missing. He feels a bit sick to his stomach; he doesn’t know if he wants to know the motive of this. He doesn’t know if he wants to know anything at _all_.

Isabella peeks at the photo, before promptly running into their bathroom. He frantically calls Phil, praying to God that Phil might know something, _anything_.

“ _Daniel? What’s wrong?_ ”

And Dan launches into the story from there, explaining every detail to Phil.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk. i wrote this when i had a fever, im 9 chapters ahead of this rn   
> dont @ me   
> warnings: kidnap, murder, swearing, pregnancy, smut

Twenty-first of February

Steeple Palace, Kings

 

 

You would think living with someone would alleviate the _need_ to be near them, but it really doesn’t. Dan thinks maybe he’s just clingy, but that would mean Isabella and Phil are equally as clingy as him. It’s nice, knowing that they want him near them the same way that he does.

But right now, Dan _really_ needs Phil’s cock inside of his ass. “ _Phil_ ,” he whines, pushing back against Phil.

“Would you wait a minute? I don’t want to hurt you,” his voice is tight, and Dan feels _pride_ in knowing that he caused Phil to unwind like this. Isabella and Julia are off somewhere, Dan’s certain that she left _specifically_ to escape the sexual tension between the boys. They were nearly eye-fucking each other this morning.

Dan’s learned that even if three people are in a relationship together, it can be super awkward to have sexual tension between two people and not the third. Dan doesn’t blame her, though, for leaving. There’s been moments where Isabella looks at Phil so intensely Dan sort of wants to crawl away.

Phil circles Dan’s rim with a lubed finger, pulling Dan back into the moment. He tries to press down against the finger, but Phil just removes it and gives him a disappointed look. “No fucking yourself,” he scolds, which is so much hotter than Dan would’ve thought it would be. The finger returns, this time Phil presses the pad of it against Dan’s entrance and applies a bit of pressure.

The finger slips past the rim and Dan groans at the intrusion. It doesn’t hurt (he won't admit it, at least), nor does it feel good, it just surprises him is all. He doesn’t bottom often, but he really should, because Phil is _so good_ at topping. Within seconds, Phil is curling the singular finger upwards and, _fuck,_ there it is. Dan feels his chest tighten in pleasure and bites his lip to keep from moaning out Phil’s name.

They don’t need the whole palace to know what they’re doing.

But Phil pulls his lip down with his thumb as he slowly thrusts in and out with his middle finger. “Wanna hear you,” he explains, breathlessly, “wanna hear you moan.”

Who is Dan to not comply with the prettiest boy in town? That’d just be a sin.

So, he let’s loose, grunting and groaning, crying out when Phil hits his prostate again. “Add another,” he encourages, grinding his hips in mid-air to gain some friction. “Please.”

Phil obliges, slipping another finger into the bottle of lube (and ignoring Dan’s mewl of desperation when he pulls out) before slipping both fingers past the rim of Dan’s entrance and picking up his pace again. Phil tries to aim deeper than before, hitting Dan’s prostate head-on instead of from a diagonal. Dan’s surprised he doesn’t cum right then and there, but he holds off because Phil’s slipping in a third finger and, _yeah,_ the stretch hurts like a bitch but it’ll be worth it.

He grinds his hips down again the fingers inside of him, a bit breathless and _very_ horny. Phil pulls his fingers out and Dan lets out a slew of, “Fuck me, please, please, Phil, fuck me—” before Phil begins to bottom out slowly.

He avoids Dan’s prostate at first, trying to just allow Dan’s body to get adjusted to having a cock inside of him, but Dan pushes down at an angle and Phil gets the memo. He adjusts the angle and begins to thrust in and out slowly, the slap of skin-on-skin driving him _mad_ with a hunger for Dan.

Phil bends down and connects their lips, grabbing Dan’s cock in a fist and wanking him off in time with his building thrusts. It isn’t until he gets into a steady rhythm that Dan slaps his hand away, and Phil let’s go. “Don’t want this to end,” Dan grunts, and Phil nods, squeezing his eyes shut. He feels the familiar coil of heat twisting in his stomach, his balls draw closer to his body and bucks into Dan faster, trying to chase the feeling of euphoria.

With one more thrust, he cums inside of Dan, grunting and breathing heavily. Dan follows, fucking himself on Phil’s cock and working through his orgasm. “God, I love you,” Dan murmurs, moving up to kiss Phil and causing Phil to slip out of him.

“I love you, too.”

“Shower?”

Phil laughs, but follows Dan to their bathroom happily as he starts the water.

 

“Sir, Ms. MacKenna would like to have an audience with you.”

The guard is kind, Dan appreciates that she announces herself before tapping his shoulder as to not startle him. “Of course, just give me a minute,” he marks the page of his book with a bookmark (his mother-in-law had given it to him for Christmas. That was literally _all_ he got), before standing up and stretching. Phil mumbles something beside him and tries to pull him back down but gives up and goes to cuddle Isabella instead.

Dan feels a bit of love swell in his chest as he follows the guard down the steps and to the foyer. A woman is there wearing grey robes—not uncommon, lots of local religious groups where robes during rituals to show symbolism. Underneath her robes is a white floral shirt that barely peeks through at all. She curtsies as soon as her blue eyes lay on Dan.

He bows as well before offering his hand, “Your Highness,” she says, shakily. “I’m Rose MacKenna.”

He nods, taking her silence as a moment to allow him to speak. He assumes she won’t speak unless he tells her to, anyways. “You don’t have to bother with formalities, it’s just ‘Dan’. Here, take a seat,” he gestures to the cushioned chairs beside a small table in the foyer. It’s not usually sat in, but it’s convenient and they won’t have to travel through his house in order to speak. “Why are you here?” He tries to keep his voice level and light in order to seem as unintimidating as possible.

It doesn’t appear to work, she just shakes more. “I—” She steadies herself with a breath. “I was originally part of the rebellion,” Dan focuses on showing no emotion to her words. “They… they would lock me up. I’d go d-days without food or water.” Her thin frame is covered by robes, but Dan is sure that if she changed into casual attire her ribs would show. “I-I need a job, but n-no one will take m-me in. I asked a woman down the street, Louise, and s-she said to come to y-you,” her bottom lip is shaking, and her eyes refuse to meet his.

“Of course, we’ll have the staff vet you to see where they believe you’ll work best.”

“M-may I hug you?” She asks, still shaking.

“Of course,” he opens his arms and wraps her into a short embrace before pulling back. “Now, Emilia will show you the multiple openings we have, and we’ll locate you in some open quarters, okay?”

 

“Dan, you want to look for the good in everyone, I get it—”

“Izzy, she _needs_ a job,” he whines, “what was I supposed to do?”

“Interview her properly to make sure you don’t kill your family!” She exclaims, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Baby,” he whines softly, trying to put his hands on her hips. She grunts and steps back. “Trust me, baby? Please?”

Phil has tried to butt in, to remind both of them to just _follow common sense_ but neither listened. So, now, he’s scrolling through Twitter on his phone.

Izzy huffs at Dan but pulls him into a hug regardless. “Can we watch _Ponyo_?” She asks, and Dan nods.

“We never finished watching Howl’s Moving Castle,” Phil points out from their bed. “And _someone_ started watching Criminal Minds without me,” he scowls in Dan’s direction playfully. Dan hops onto their bed, pushing Phil to the side playfully as he adjusts pillows.

“You’re one to talk,” Dan shoots back, “you watched a whole season without me,” Phil ignores his statement, pulling Dan closer to his chest instead. Izzy takes it as an invitation to sit on the other side of Dan and combs her fingers through her hairs.

They select the movie and curl into each other, watching everything with intense interest. It’s a way to wind down, to watch kid movies until they’re tired and fall asleep.

Isabella has other plans, as the credits roll in, though. She selects a horror movie (it looks like a knock-off of The Blair Witch, but neither of the boys tell her that) from the list and hits _play_.

Phil’s stomach feels queasy as the movie progresses. He’s good with jump scares and horror generally, but this is suspense. It’s gory and bloody and he _hates_ gore. He gags a bit, internally, as fake guts fly across the screen. “God, I _hate_ this.”

“C’mon! It’s a good movie,” Dan defends. “What’s wrong? Do you want me to hold you?” He says it so sweetly and innocently that Phil just nods and buries his head into the crook of Dan’s neck.

“Thanks,” he mumbles into Dan’s shirt, and Dan says something in response, but Phil can’t really hear it. He focuses on breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. Izzy’s arm has stretched across Dan to massage his shoulder gently. He gives her two thumbs up to show that he’s feeling a bit better. “Sorry for being a little bitch,” he apologizes, but his head is still buried in Dan’s shoulder and his voice sounds scratchy still.

“It’s fine, baby,” Izzy assures him, “besides, you’re _our_ little bitch.”

Phil gives an unconvincing laugh at that and allows himself to block out the slashing sounds from the television. Instead, he focuses on his breathing and eventually manages to lull himself to sleep.

 

Dan has woken up in the middle of the night. He looks over to read their clock and see what time it is, but all he sees is darkness. Then, something moves and he’s able to read the clock again: _3:18 a.m._ He groans, rolling into Phil’s side.

And then he feels something cold and metallic against his throat.

“Come with me,” a voice urges him and he nods anxiously. _Just don’t hurt the babies_ , he prays, silently.

He gets up, slowly, careful not to wake Isabella. She’s a heavy sleeper, of course, but he’d hate for her to wake up and God knows what this person will do to her then.

She doesn’t move, thankfully. Dan’s able to get out of their bed without too many issues. He follows the hand on his back, careful not to walk into the _knife on his throat_.

He holds his breath as the move through the palace and towards the gardens. Dan feels his heart sinking as he realizes with certainty that this woman is a guard. The guard he hired this morning. No one else will be guarding the side exit to the gardens, and therefore, she’s able to walk out with him.

And it’s his fault.

He _knew_ better.

He focuses on steadying his breath and keeping his eyes trained ahead. There’s no chance of escape, there never was. He wishes he could go back and smack his former self for letting a stranger into his home.

“Stop in the name of Prince Philip!” A commanding voice calls, and Dan relaxes with the realization that they’re on _his_ team. “Release the weapon from the Prince’s neck!” She does, but not before dragging it along playfully, as if this is fun for her. He feels the knife pierce his skin—a papercut, barely, but he still winces. “Approach the gates,” the guard commands, and she obliges, pulling the back of Dan’s shirt towards the palace. “Drop him.”

She does, Dan knows this because he hits the dirt with a _thud_.

 

He wakes up with a headache, lying in the infirmary bed. A nurse is fussing over a particularly nasty bruise forming on his knee, but he shoves her hand away, “What the hell is happening?”

“You’re perfectly healthy, sir, there was a chance of concussion and we had to check to make sure you weren’t severely harmed.”

He nods, sitting up. His head still hurts, and when he brings his hand to the pounding, there’s a massive swelling beside his temple. He groans, reclining again and allowing Phil to give him a frown. “You’re lucky I’m a light sleeper after scary movies,” Phil mutters. “I woke up to cuddle you after a nightmare and you weren’t there. I knew something was wrong.”

Dan’s never been more grateful for Phil’s terror of gore before now. After all, who knows where Dan would be if it weren’t for Phil wanting cuddles. “God, I love you.”

“You’ve told me a few times,” Phil says, cheekily. His joy falls away as he wraps his arms around Dan, and Dan notices Izzy standing behind Phil.

“Don’t you _ever_ ,” she slaps him, “do that again.”

He holds his cheek in shock. It doesn’t hurt, but Dan wasn’t expecting _that_. “I’m sorry,” he says, though he’s not sure what he’s sorry.

“That bitch can die,” she says. Dan nods uncertainly. “Tomorrow.”

He nods, understanding now. She wants the woman to be sentenced. Tomorrow. “Yes, ma’am,” he averts his gaze. There’s no malice behind his words, he’s sincerely terrified of Isabella.

His mother is there, too, but she hasn’t spoken yet. Her lips are pursed and she’s shaking her head at him before leaving without a word.

“Where’s Julia?” He asks, but Phil just rolls his eyes.

“It’s seven a.m., Dan, you set back all of the chores. Julia is working in the kitchens because most of the kitchen maids were trying to help _you_.”

Dan’s heart hurts a but from that, and he feels so much worse for leaving them. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. Phil’s gaze softens behind his glasses.

“We forgive you, baby. Just… not again, okay?”

Dan nods, and the nurse gives him the ‘okay’ to go back to his chambers.

He collapses back into their bed, catching up on his lost sleep, and curled around his partners.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh s/o to my lovely beta myimagineoutlet bc she helps me sosososososo much with this fic as i'm not a native english speaker and so putting my thoughts into another language is a struggle. s/o to my fiance jake for also proofreading this nine times and telling me that he doesn't even know his own language bc im marrying that asshole (gotta be a legal citizen somehow yall) ;)  
> warnings: ???????????????????????????????????????? swearing, panic, ???????????????????????????, hUH, basically every warning in the last chapter. since im no longer doing warnings @ the beginnings of chapters from now on (it's gonna get dark, so be warned) i'll dump em all here.   
> murder, implied suicide, smut, sexual assault (blink and you miss it), gore, graphic violence and language.   
> this isnt the end dont worry babes im just super hella tired and think of this as the start of me slowly losing sanity

Third of March

Steeple Palace, Kings

 

 

“Louise?” Dan asks into the phone, biting his bottom lip to keep from crying.

“ _Dan? Are you okay? Are you in a bathroom?_ ” She asks, panicked.

“Louise, please, can you come over? Please?” He begs into the phone and hears a sigh in response.

He tries to steady his breathing, but it doesn’t do much. His heart is pounding, and he can feel his pulse in his head.

“ _Okay, baby, I’ll be there in three minutes,_ ” he sniffles into the phone and manages to nod his head despite the fact that she can’t see him.

“Promise?” He asks, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. He doesn’t need Louise to know that her country is run by the most incompetent man in history.

“ _I promise, honey, I’ll be there soon. You just try to hold on, okay?_ ”

“I’ll try.”

“ _Good. I love you, stay strong._ ”

“I love you, too.”

He wallows in the silence for a minute, steadying his breathing slightly. His heart is still pounding in his chest, but he’s a bit better with the knowledge that Louise will be over immediately.

She’d been born in Menia—she was Isabella’s maid, originally. When him and Izzy got married, she’d moved into the palace with them. One night she’d told Dan that she’d always wanted to use her kitchen knowledge and make her own restaurant. They’d supported her the entire way—she’d been like a mother to Dan when his mum wasn’t, it was only fair that he help her as much as she’d helped him.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by a knock on the door.

Isabella knocks again, louder this time, “Dan? Let me in please!” She sounds frantic.

“Can you leave me alone?” He calls back, but it sounds like a demand. His voice sounds broken and torn up. It’s obvious he’s been crying. The strain in his voice paired with the prepubescent-sounding crack makes him even more _pathetic_.

“C’mon, you’ve been jerking off for nine minutes? You and I both know you’re done,” Phil says jokingly. Dan mumbles a response, but he doesn’t even know what he’d trying to say, himself.

“Will you just open the door?” Phil demands, and then his voice becomes deeper and softer, “Please, Dan. We’re worried about you.”

He musters up the energy to climb to his feet and unlock the door, looking at Isabella and Philip with sad eyes. “’M sorry,” he mumbles, and Phil purses his lips at the apology.

“Hey,” Izzy says, softly, pulling him into a hug. Phil places his arms around both of them and takes a shaky breath. “I overheard you. Told the guards to expect Louise to be here, soon.”

“I’m sorry,” though he doesn’t know what for. For having a panic attack in their bathroom? For calling Louise even though it’s technically illegal? For being a mess? For everything?

“Don’t be,” Phil says, smoothing Dan’s shirt out.

“I’ve killed two people.”

Phil opens his mouth as if to argue, but then closes it. The motion makes him look like a fish gaping on land, and Dan would’ve laughed at the thought if he wasn’t so done with living. He’d convinced himself that happiness isn’t something he deserves.

After all, he killed _two people_.

No man who can kill should be allowed to be happy.

“ _You_ didn’t kill them,” Izzy reminds him. “They tried to kill you, so _you_ sentenced them to death.”

It doesn’t help.

It just makes Dan sob even harder. They had _lives_. He’s terrified of death himself; he’s afraid that you feel everything after you pass. He’s afraid that when you die it’s literal hell. He’s afraid that God is real and is looking down on him and judging his every move.

End of story. He’s afraid.

If he’s so afraid of dying, how could he sentence two people to die?

“T-they—” he can’t finish his sentence because there’s a knock on their door and Dan’s crying hard again. His heart and brain are both shattered; he can’t muster the energy to pull himself together.

It’s been like this for a while. It’s as if all of the sudden he’s _broken_. Phil suspects maybe he got a little too close to death and now he’s panicking.

He did get very close to death. That woman could’ve killed Dan in _seconds_. He’s not skilled with weaponry, he’s not a quick think, and he’s definitely not fit in any way.

When he’d first started showing symptoms of his mental health plummeting, Phil and Isabella had held a meeting with him demanding that he get help for it.

Phil had suggested he see his therapist again, but Dan just rolled his eyes. “Oh, and what? Admit that I’ve killed two people and I should go to hell?” He’d demanded, and Phil had backed down after that.

There hasn’t been a playful vibe recently—not even when they talk about the babies. Dan just looks intensely and talks about how _bad_ everything has gotten.

Phil wishes he would _talk_ instead of keeping everything bottled up inside.

Louise is here, thank God. She’ll be able to calm him down more than Phil or Izzy will. “He refuses to listen to us,” he tells her, and she gives him a sad smile.

“I’ll do my best, Phil,” she pats his cheek and sits down next to Dan. She points to the door, giving them an unspoken command to leave them alone for a bit, and Phil obliges, dragging Isabella out of their bedroom by her wrist.

“You think he’ll ever be okay?” She asks him, her face tucked into his neck.

He just hums out a song, swaying them back and forth slowly in the hallway instead of answering. Because he doesn’t think Dan will ever be okay. He thinks he’ll get _better_ , perhaps, but he’s not sure if Dan was ever okay to begin with.

 

“How are the babies?” Is the first question she asks. Dan won’t meet her eyes, but that’s okay. She’s not bothered by it, as long as he talks to her.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh? You haven’t been in the mood to talk to Isabella?” He shakes his head. “Well, you have to check on them eventually, right? You’re their father.”

“Phil is better.”

Louise tears up at that. He sounds so _pained_ when he said it, like it was a fact that he didn’t want to accept. “Baby, can I tell you a secret?” He nods, and she drops her voice to a whisper, “The girls always preferred you over Phil.”

Dan doesn’t smile, but he finally meets her eyes, so it’s a start. She smiles at him and takes his hand. “Really?” He sounds so _hopeful_ and so innocent that her heart breaks into nine different pieces.

She nods eagerly, “When Darcy was little, she came up to me one day and said that Uncle Dan was better than anyone other uncle she had, and Izzy and I both laughed. I think Carter’s borther was a bit angered, but he sucked it up.”

“Izzy was there?” Louise can see the life slowly coming back to him with the conversation, so she keeps talking. He looks so childish whenever he hears anything about Isabella or Philip, his eyes become huge and full of joy and his smile becomes outrageously large for his face.

“Yea! We were sat in the back room. You know as soon as Pearl learns to speak she’ll have her opinion, too,” Louise gives him a wink and he laughs lightly. He’s not fixed, but he’s getting there, so Louise knows that she’s done her job well.

“Louise?”

“Yea?”

“Thank you.”

She pulls him into a hug and doesn’t let go, “Of course, bear, now you go out there and apologize to that family of yours.”

“I like that they’re my family.”

“I like that they’re your family, too,” she wipes away the tears lingering on his cheeks and he gives her a bright and hopeful smile. She stands up and he takes her hand, before she takes him to see Izzy and Phil.

Immediately, Phil wraps Dan into a hug and kisses every part of his face like he’s a golden retriever seeing his owner for the first time in forever. “Are you feeling better?”

Dan nods, leaning his head against Phil’s shoulder and steadying his breathing. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Phil pulls back, his eyebrows drawn together with confusion. “What for?”

“For worrying you. I’m sorry,” he bites his quivering lip and his eyes well up with tears.

Phil just pulls him into a kiss, and when they pull apart, both are gazing at each other happily with grins on their faces. “I forgive you.”

“You’ve been stressed, Dan. It’s a surprise you’ve managed to last this long without a breakdown,” Isabella pats his hair and pulls him into a kiss as well. “Thank you, Louise, for fixing my husband,” she says it jokingly, but Louise knows it’s a sincere apology.

She nods. “It’s my job, obviously, I’m the mom friend.”

Dan laughs and hugs Louise, “I won’t kiss you, too, but thank you.”

“Good. I’m glad I helped you somehow.”

He wants to say something, but he doesn’t, he just reminds himself to hug his partners a little tighter. “Now,” Louise says, “who wants lunch?”

 

“Vegan tacos are _hard_ , Dan,” Louise tells him. “You’re a good cook, sure, but let me make the tacos, love.”

“ _Louise_ ,” he gripes, stirring the tofu in the skillet. “I’m doing okay so far!”

“Yes, love, so _far_ being the key word. Scoot over, I’m going to get the peppers grilled.”

He complies, moving to sit down next to Phil on the floor.

Phil’s scrolling through a social media app—Instagram? Dan can’t remember, he’s really only ever on Twitter—occasionally liking posts. Dan watches as he scrolls through videos of corgis and babies, quite Philip things to look at.

That is until he scrolls past a long caption.

The username says, “ _inw.news_ ,” and Dan recognizes it as a news channel in Intora.

_Rumored affair?_

_There’s been a rumor rapidly spreading the internet concerning the ruling-trio of Etithoia. An inside source at Steeple Palace has reported to one of our writers that there’s a hidden reason behind the uniting of Prince Daniel, Prince Philip and Princess Isabella. The source claims that the child (or perhaps children, as there’s another rumor spreading rapidly that the trio are to be expecting twins or perhaps even triplets!) isn’t actually Prince Daniel’s at all—in fact, they claim that Prince Philip only came into their lives when Isabella was caught having an affair in the worst way. The full link to the article is in our bio._

“It’s amazing that this is considered journalism,” Dan comments. Phil snorts.

“Imagine going to school for eight years only to write around _this_.”

“It’s not as if there’s a shortage of events, either,” Dan mumbles. “Comment on the people being sentenced to death or the, I don’t know, _impending war_ that could happen at any moment.”

Phil scrolls to the next post, “Whatever, it’s not like we care much.”

“Watch as this is the rumor that gets me impeached.”

“The one that’s not true?”

“Exactly.”

Isabella sets a plate in front of them, “Look, I’m a cook now.”

Dan laughs, pulling her into a kiss before they sit down and eat.


	14. Chapter 14

Fifth of April

Steeple Palace, Kings

 

 

“Your Majesty!” A guard calls after Isabella. Usually, she’d turn around, but Dan had called her in a frenzy over something about Tristan and she _needs_ to get to their rooms to know what’s happening. “Your Majesty!” The guard grabs her shoulder and swirls her around. “We need you in the kitchens immediately, there’s been a fire and the maids need assistance.”

Her mouth is agape. “A fire?”

The guard nods frantically, his eyes switching between looking at her and behind her.

“Where?”

“Kitchens.”

Fuck.

She runs towards the kitchen area and immediately spots a group of maids swarming the ovens. There’s smoke, but not much. It’s not enough to be evacuation worthy, but it’s enough to concern her about her staff and the appliances. “What happened?” She tries to keep the panic out of her voice, but she _can’t_ because she’s _panicked for fuck’s sake_. If the oven’s broken they’re fucked, to put it lightly. Her family is coming over to visit soon and she can’t allow anyone new into the palace for repairs.

The usual repairman is on holiday in Intora for a couple of weeks. He needed a break from the stress that the palace was giving him.

Isabella wishes she could go on holiday for a couple of weeks.

“One of the ovens… it just exploded!” A boy announces, his voice shaking. “No one touched it, we swear!” He points to the oven, his finger wavering with anxiety.

“Calm down, Jacob,” another maid attempts to counsel him, but Jacob ignores it. He pulls the princess towards the damage.

She inspects the oven and sees what she feared: it looks _bad_. “We’ll call in a mechanic to install a new oven. It’ll need to wait until we’re able to figure out the situation with our repairman, okay? Try to avoid using the ovens for now, if you can. I don’t want anyone to possibly get hurt.”

She comforts the terrified staff, forgetting about her husband’s frantic phone call. There’s a girl—the one that had been working on the oven originally, and she’s got a burned arm. Her hand is red and swollen and her wrist is beginning to blister.

“Let’s get you to the nurse,” Isabella tells her, rubbing her arm in what she hopes is a soothing manner. The girl just continues to shake and wobble, attempting to tell Izzy that she’ll be okay. But Isabella doesn’t listen and drags her to the infirmary, keeping her company as her arm is wrapped in medicated bandages.

They’re sweet people, the staff. They always hold themselves with this _dignity_ because they serve the Prince and Princess directly. It’s almost funny, they take pride in their jobs, but Dan and Isabella just feel like they’re taking advantage of the staff most of the time.

Well, Dan _does_ take the staff for granted sometimes, but he could be a lot worse and Isabella has her own faults. Izzy supposes that calling in for a ham sandwich at twelve in the morning isn’t the worst a Prince has ever treated his staff.

Besides, they really are kind. They put their best foot forward in every situation. Isabella supposes it’s not a bad job; they get a good (more so, fucking great) salary, housing is accommodated, food is accommodated, clothing is accommodated, etc. So, really, she supposes they should be prideful to have this job. Hell, it’s better than running the country, in her opinion.

The guards are different, they’re mostly young men and women serving their four-years before they have to head off for school. They used to have a surplus of guards on hand, but with the arising situation with Intora being under attack, they’ve sent most of them to help their allies.

It hurt Isabella to see them go—to know that they’re being sent out for death when they could be safe at the palace.

But they’re nice, regardless of whether or not they don’t want to be here. Most of them have been aware of the change in the air. The mood has gone from light-hearted drinking and betting on the royal partners to whispers of war and traitors.

So, Isabella supposes, they’re justified in being a bit more distant from her.

She stays with the maid until nightfall, telling her stories and anecdotes. Phil comes by for dinner, mumbling into her shoulder and giving her kisses, asking if she’s seen Dan anywhere.

“He was in his office, last I saw him,” she gives him a kiss and turns her attention back to the young girl. “Philip, this is Amy.”

“Hello, Amy,” he says, his tone soft and warm. His voice is deep from a nap, making Isabella’s stomach do flips.

It isn’t until the maid had gone to sleep that Isabella invites Phil to bed, which he happily accepts.

 

 

Tristan isn’t dead.

No, the picture that Dan saw of “Tristan” wasn’t actually Tristan.

Which would explain why all medically identifying body-parts are gone from the victim in the picture that Dan saw.

Dan _knows_ Tristan is still alive because Tristan has a gun to his temple.

Dan wonders vaguely how anyone could’ve slipped into his room. He didn’t hear anything about any big events.

His skin crawls as the metal dances along his forehead teasingly.

He was only in his study reading, for fuck’s sake. How did he get here? Why does everything end up being horrible for him?

“You’re going to come with me.”

“What makes you say that?”

Tristan cocks the gun, repositioning it at his temple. “Come on, you were never really strong. I mean, look at you. You let any stray into your heart for one fake sob-story,” Dan can’t breathe. “Oh? You didn’t realize? You’re just gullible, Daniel. I never went through a hard life, I just wanted you to die. Now, I’m going to get that wish.”

Tristan shoves him in the direction that they want them to go, and then begins forcing Dan to walk.

Dan swallows the lump in throat and takes a shaky breath. He moves forward a bit, trying to keep their pace out of the palace as slow as possible, but Tristan isn’t having it. They force Dan to speed up, walking so fast that his calves ache and his feet hurt.

There’s a van, _God how cliché_ , and Dan gets in slowly. As soon as he gets in, he’s buckled up and the car takes off. At some point, he passes out, but he doesn’t know for how long or why.

Perhaps being kidnapped takes a lot out of a man.

 

 

When he comes to again, he’s in a basement-like-area. There are overhanging lights that flicker on and off, and he feels his heart crawl into his throat.

There’s a wine rack in the corner, red and white sloshing in old bottles as the floor creaks beneath him. It’s a stereotypical murder scene, complete with the smell of death itself hanging in the air.

He wants to vomit and then scream. He hopes that Isabella is okay, but the sinking feeling in his gut tells him otherwise. Sure, he can imagine that Isabella was spared, and that Tristan was only there for him, but what are the chances?

Everything is based on statistic, after all.

There’s a man wheeling in a television (Dan wants to demand what year it is, _1990_?). On the television is a video recording of his room. With a sinking feeling, he realizes it’s in real time. Oh _God_ no, whatever they’re planning to force him to watch, he won’t do it. He refuses, he _refuses_ , to watch it.

But it’s not like he can just turn the chair around.

He squeezes his eyes shut and waits. A resounding _smack_ rings through the air and Dan’s eyes fly open from the pain blossoming behind his skull. “Eyes open, bitch.”

“Kinky,” he grunts back. The voice laughs, shoving his head forward.

He lets his head roll, desperate to relieve some of the pain. He hates to sound like every horror movie character ever, but he just wants to see his _wife and boyfriend again_. It seems unfair that they were beginning to become a family and then everything had to go wrong.

He tries to relax, as much as one can, but he ends up leaning forward with his shoulders tensed. There’s laughter from the floor above him, it sounds like there’s a group of friends meeting up.

He has a feeling no one is going to find him as quickly as they did last time.

 

Dan doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up to a smack on the back of his head. “Hey, dumbass,” the voice taunts, and Dan grunts, shutting his eyes. He expects a smack, but instead, he feels a warm mouth on his neck and his eyes shoot open. “There it is, he doesn’t like lovin’.” The voice taunts some more. Dan doesn’t ask _why_ they did that, he just keeps his eyes open this time.

“Keep your fucking mouth off of me,” he mutters through gritted teeth.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” the voice growls angrily, and Dan feels something sharp and cool against his neck. A knife, again. “Now, learn your place or we’re going to have some problems,” a chorus of laughter erupts from behind him, making him shiver a bit from his headache.

“Here’s how this is gonna work,” the voice growls, “you’ll do what we say, and you’ll live a little more than if you didn’t.” The blade of the knife digs into his neck and Dan feels his breathing stop momentarily as beads of blood begin to roll down his neck. The laughter is still going as if this is the funniest thing these dicks have ever seen before.

“P-please,” he manages.

His response comes in the form of another slice, this time to his collarbone. He doesn’t think about how Phil kisses his collarbones whenever he can, tries not to think about how Isabella always says that his collarbones are pretty.

He sure as hell doesn’t think about how if he ever returns to them, his collarbones will no longer be pretty.

It’s so stupid to worry about that; it’s so shallow. His partners love him for more than his bloody collarbones, but still, it feels like it’s an attack on his relationship with them.

The cuts a straight line from his collarbone to his shoulder blade. It’s as if they’re trying to taunt Dan, “look at all these things your partners once loved. Let’s mutilate them, one by one, and watch as you become unlovable.”

He keeps his head up, desperate to breathe somehow, but he _can’t_. He feels like his chest is tight and the blade is much too close to his neck to comfortably breathe. He tries to count his breaths like his therapist told him to do, four counts in, eight counts out, but it doesn’t work. He’s just zoning out now, taking the pain as it comes and ignoring the laughter erupting behind him. Hopefully, he won’t be forced to live through this. Hopefully they off him.

 

Dan wakes up again, groggy and confused, to Tristan kneeling in front of him. “Do you remember our boy Winston? Yes,” they look amused. “He wasn’t very smart, but he did tell you about the speakers. The people whose jobs are to convince,” Dan nods uncertainly. “Well, would you like to play a game called ‘putting two and two together’?”

“That’s a fucking shit name for a game,” Dan hears himself grumble, and Tristan laughs heartily. The men behind Dan join in.

“See, boys, he’s funny!” Tristan exclaims, gesturing towards where Dan is sat. “Told you he’d be worth keeping alive for a bit.”

So, they were planning on offing him. But only after they’d had their fun.

Great.

He manages a sigh and lets his head lull around for a bit on the back of the chair. The metal holding him in place is heavy and it’s digging into his ribs painfully. It hurts, but he doesn’t want to pass out again. Passing out again is a bad idea, but his body does it against permission from him because his body is an asshole.

 

There’s _screaming_. It sounds like…

“Phil!” Dan groans, not opening his eyes. He wants to believe that Phil is yelling playfully at Isabella and that he’s asleep on her shoulder. He wants to rest for a bit longer instead of having to brave the reality of the situation.

Because he knows. He _knows_ that when he opens them he’ll see something he doesn’t want to see.

But when he’s smacked, his eyes simply fall on a worried Phil’s face. There’s no blood, no death, nothing that he’d expected. Phil’s just… screaming. Dan can barely make out the words, “Dan” and “dead” before he slumps back with exhaustion.

 

The “Tertiary Location” isn’t extravagant or _happy_ in any sense. There’s a kitchen, a hallway, and a bedroom. It looks like a lower-class house. Isabella supposes it’s a disguise for them, and it’s smart, but it’s crammed, and she needs space.

She needs space because she’s pregnant and dealing with loss.

Her husband is gone, her boyfriend is throwing up, the babies are pressing on her bladder and she’s never seen the place that she’s at currently. It’s not like she can use the bathroom—she can’t kick her puking boyfriend off of the toilet. Instead, she leans on their bed on her elbows. Her breathing is sporadic simply because of the _stress_ of it all.

The guard that had driven them had warned them to have no faith in Daniel showing up again—he hadn’t said it outright, but _death_ lingered in the air. The idea of Dan’s death always felt like a joke to her. He was too loved, too happy, too bright to be killed. They had planned that they would grow old together, raise the kids, maybe adopt a dog or eight. She hadn’t anticipated that she’d be raising their kids with Phil. Alone.

Phil has hope, he always does. She can see it in the way he keeps smiling and keeps saying “is” instead of “was”. Isabella doesn’t want to lose faith, per say, but she _knows_ better than to have any hope in her people. The people that kidnap are the people that kill and there’s no way to sugarcoat it. If Dan isn’t dead now, they have a plan to kill him before the babies are born.

They’ve probably had this plan for a while. The disappearance of Dan was so _perfect_. No fingerprints were left, and nobody noticed any intruders. It was as if the person knew the palace from the inside-out.

No, Dan was almost certainly dead.

Phil walks into the room—more so stumbles, if Izzy is honest—and plops down beside Isabella. His face is paler than usual, and his eyes have heavy bags beneath them. Izzy pats a spot next to her and Phil crawls into her arms.

For the first time since Dan was found missing, Phil sobs.

He sobs _hard_ and ugly. It’s the kind of sobs that make Isabella’s heart lurch in despair because she’s _so close_ to coming to terms with it, with Dan’s death, and Phil is tearing her heart out. She sniffles and doesn’t say anything, but he _sobs_. It doesn’t stop, he just tires himself out to the point where he’s silently sobbing with his eyes closed.

Izzy doesn’t try to say anything; she doesn’t say _“just have faith!”_ because it’s useless. She lost faith in him ever coming home. She kisses his hair and whispers, “I love you, we’re safe, I love you,” over and over until he finally stops crying.

He’s asleep, and Izzy isn’t sure whether or not to be grateful. On one hand, she’s grateful he’s stopped crying; when he’s in pain, she’s in pain. On the other hand, she feels so, _so,_ lonely. Dan isn’t here to stay up with her and keep her company, and he isn’t here to sing random childhood songs to her while they scroll through the internet’s drama.

She’s awfully lonely, but she pushes it down. She pushes it down because she has Phil beside her, and she won’t break when he needs her to stay together.

So, she relaxes back, places a hand on her belly, and hoping that she’ll be able to fall asleep, too.

She does, eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoy this im going 2 sleep now babes


End file.
